


Into the Darkness

by Ophiel



Series: Post-Trespasser Inquisition [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angry Sex, Attempted Kidnapping, Bondage, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dragon Age Quest: The Deep Roads Expedition, Dwarven Politics, Dwarves, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Kissing, Marriage, Mystery Stories, Orzammar, Politics, Provings, Rough Kissing, The Deep Roads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn and Cullen are called to avert a war between the dwarves of Orzammar and King of Ferelden. The problem is that the dwarves may or may not want to kill the Queen who has disappeared into the Deep Roads to combat a new Darkspawn threat. At least there won't be balls this time, or so they hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Request Theirin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Alistair come with some subtle arm twists. Chantry boys turn out pretty sneaky after all.

Skyhold in winter was dismal. While the autumn brought leaves of gold, summer hailed golden sunlight and spring peppered the keep with blooms, winter turned everything gray. Evelyn leaned on the verandah of her balcony, overlooking the gray keep with black barren trees under a slate sky. She groaned as she smelled the chill in the air and eyed the roiling gray clouds as if they were a personal insult. “If we have another blizzard, I am going to scream!” she complained as she strode into her quarters. Technically it wasn't her quarters anymore. She shared it with Cullen now. It was her family’s quarters.

 

Cullen sat at the desk donned in his tunic, breeches and light boots with a warm shawl over his shoulders. His fingers were pressed to his temple as he looked over a sheaf of reports. “It's winter, Eve,” he said mildly, the frown on his face telling eloquently of his headache. “Blizzards are a part of life.”

 

There easy a snore from under the desk. Evelyn moved to look under the table at the two sleeping occupants. Dog slumbered there, snoring like a thunderstorm. On him lay Sam, their son, soon to turn three. The little boy had sunny golden hair which she was sure would darken into the strawberry blond of his father's or the darkest brown of hers. Sam used Dog as both a friend and snuggle toy. She sighed. The boy's clothes were going to stink of Dog again, but at least Sam was never alone.

 

She looked at Cullen. His head was probably splitting with the migraine. Over the years, he didn't feel the effects of lyrium withdrawal so often, but the blizzards had given him a cold that made the symptoms worse. She set her hand on his shoulder, her fingers pressing down on the knots there. She heard him moan appreciatively. She loved the way he moaned, the sound of it reaching right into her and turning her on at an almost primal level. She kissed his aching head, her fingers pressing down on the bundle of nerves at his neck. “What day is it, love?”

 

“Friday,” Cullen moaned. The man could make even the Chant of Light sound like erotica if he tried.

 

“Don't you remember that Fridays are supposed to be our rest days?” she asked, leaning his head back against her breasts as she massaged his temple. “You're still under the weather. Take a break and let's have something to eat?”

 

He was smirking as he leaned his head against her breasts. “But I'm so comfortable.”

 

He sneezed then, the papers flying. He groaned and lowered his head to the desk, looking woozy.

 

“Yes, definitely time for some hot soup,” Evelyn held the stump of her severed arm. Cullen wordlessly nodded.

 

There was a knocking on her chamber door from below then. Evelyn pushed Cullen back down onto the chair as he started to rise and went to get the door. It was as messenger. “Lady Inquisitor,” said the messenger as Evelyn looked down at the door over the upper floor railing, “There are horses approaching the gates through the pass.”

 

“What banner?” Cullen demanded from over her shoulder. Evelyn tsked slightly. Couldn't the man just rest when he needed it?

 

“Ferelden,” the messenger replied. “They carry the standards of the Royal House Theirin.”

 

“King Alistair?” Evelyn exclaimed. “Get Josephine. And Mia - say please to her.” Cullen was already pulling on his leather jerkin and armour.

 

“What is he doing here?” Cullen said blearily.

 

“It seems urgent to come unannounced,” Evelyn replied as she moved to don her Inquisition armour as well. Cullen came to help buckle her Inquisition breastplate on before he returned to his own armour. “Thank you, love,” she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling on her boots.

 

As she was picking up her staff, Mia entered. She had come to Skyhold at her own behest upon Sam’s birth. She chewed Cullen and Evelyn out for working all hours and moved into the keep to help look after Sam. Evelyn wondered if it was because Mia and Rickard themselves were still childless. She didn’t mind, as long as it gave Mia joy - and it did help her and Cullen to balance work and baby better. Mia wiped her hands on her apron. “Maker, I heard the King was riding up!” she exclaimed. Her hair was tied back in a sombre bun, going slightly gray at the roots.

 

“He is,” Evelyn said, slipping her staff into its clasp at her back. Cullen was buckling on his sword. “So much for a rest day.”

 

“Don’t keep him waiting!” Mia scolded. “Get going! I’ll look after Sam while you’re gone.” She looked around the room. “Where is he?”

 

“Under the desk with Dog,” Cullen replied.

 

“Oh, Cullen!” Mia frowned.

 

“What?” Cullen blinked. “It’s actually quite warm in that little cubby hole.”

 

“He should know,” Evelyn said. “He’s snuggled up with them in there before.”

 

Cullen glanced at his wife. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sam told me.”

 

Cullen sighed. “Traitor.”

 

Mia sighed in exasperation. “Nevermind. Just get going - you can’t keep the King waiting.”

 

Evelyn sighed as she and Cullen descended the stairs. Mia was a mother hen, but Evelyn was glad for her around. She was a sobering presence in the castle - when things between her and Cullen got tense, Mia was always there with good advice to keep them from killing each other. Not that their fights happened often, but when they did, it tended to be rather loud.

 

They met Leliana in the main hall, the woman clearly waiting for them to emerge from their chamber. “Did you get word of this?” Evelyn asked her spymaster as they strode past. Leliana fell into step beside her. Evelyn tucked her hair over one shoulder, the fur of her shoulder pads should keep her warm enough.

 

“No,” Leliana replied. “My lookouts spotted him coming up the pass. We had no idea that he would be coming.”

 

“Where’s Josephine?”

 

“Already at the gate,” Leliana replied. “She is just as surprised. King Alistair sent no word ahead.”

 

Evelyn sighed wearily. “You know King Alistair, Leliana. Does he always ride ahead of a blizzard through the mountains in the middle of winter for a social call?”

 

Leliana tittered. “It is something he would do.”

 

“But not this time, I think,” Cullen said. They stepped out into the snowy courtyard, bare trees clawing at the roiling sky. Snow crunched under their feet as they descended the stairs to the main gates. Josephine was already there, the fine fur collar of her coat framing her face as she yelled at soldiers to get in line.

 

Cullen stepped in. “Inquisition!” he barked. “Form up! Do you need to be told twice? Move those legs!”

 

With the migraine, he looked sterner than usual. Lines were quickly formed leading in from the main gates into the keep. Josephine sighed as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Frustration was written all over her face.

 

“Everything will be fine,” Josephine said to Evelyn before Evelyn could even open her mouth.

 

“Don’t worry, King Alistair’s never been the formal sort,” Evelyn assured her.

 

“That is not the point,” Josephine said. “The place is filthy and we have no adequate quarters - I may need to move Duke Averard from his chambers to-”

 

“This isn’t Celene,” Evelyn put a hand on Josephine’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine, like you said. He may not even be staying.”

 

There were banners at the end of the bridge now, whipping in the gusts of wind that raked the span of the bridge. A horse pulled ahead of the column, riding towards the gate. Evelyn squinted. “Maker’s breath,” Josephine said. King Alistair rode at a gallop across the bridge. Evelyn had never met the king in person, but now here he was - donned in extremely unassuming armour of leather and fur against the cold, his cloak billowing in the wind behind him, his crown glinting in the dull gray light. He did not look kingly at all, more rakishly handsome than anything else - the sort of rascal you wouldn’t want to bring home to your mother, but perhaps bring home to your bed.

 

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair exclaimed, reigning in in front of them. “It’s bloody cold out there. Hello, Inquisitor.”

 

“Your Majesty,” Evelyn bowed as her advisors paid respects to the king.

 

“Oh, right. Should have taken the crown off,” Alistair winced. He dismounted as a groom from Dennet’s stables took his horse. “Can we get somewhere warm? I’m freezing in places you don’t even want to know about, believe me. Not to mention my Seneschal is utterly overbearing. Maybe we can bar the gates before he gets here.” Alistair rubbed his shoulder and winced, stiff from the ride and the cold.

 

“Perhaps the War Room?” Evelyn suggested. “We can lock those doors, at least.”

 

“We could also prepare a bath for you, your Majesty,” Josephine said with a curtsey.

 

“Uhoh, do I need one?” Alistair asked.

 

“Er, no, Sire-” Josephine said, caught off guard.

 

Alistair chuckled. “You needn’t worry, Lady Montiliyet,” he said. “The War Room will be fine - nothing warms the blood like talk about killing things. And you, Leliana? I trust everything is going swimmingly with all the sneaky shadow spy stuff?”

 

Leliana chuckled. “I’d be a poor spymaster if I told, your majesty,” she replied.

 

Alistair looked up at Cullen’s surly expression as he suffered the migraine. “Right, I’m just too scared to talk to him.”

 

“Your majesty is too kind,” Cullen muttered.

 

Evelyn sensed that something was happening that was urgent. There was a tightness in Alistair’s eyes. The king was clearly in a rush and worried about... something. Things often bode ill when kings grow gravely concerned. “Then let us proceed,” she said. “Far be it for us to keep the King of Ferelden waiting.”

 

They turned to climb the stairs as the gales caught Alistair’s cloak once more. “How do you people survive up here?” Alistair complained.

 

“We light fires, your Majesty,” Evelyn said mildly. “Also, we don’t gallop across a bridge when the winds might rip us off our horse.” There was a slight admonition in her voice. “What would people think?”

 

“Huh. Guess I should have thought about that,” Alistair muttered. “That would have been a stupid way to die, wouldn’t it?”

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Cullen muttered.

 

Alistair shot him a grin. “Ah, well, that would be a turn up for the books - imagine having to explain that sort of death to the Maker, if I even get to talk to him, at any rate. Did you get my present?”

 

Evelyn chuckled. “Yes, the little sword and shield are very nice. Sam will enjoy it when he gets older. And the little mage staff was a nice touch as well.”

 

“Well, you never know,” Alistair said, a slight sigh in his voice. “He may turn out one way or the other. I thought it would be best if you prepared for all eventualities - at least, in terms of toys.”

 

Evelyn knew that he and the Queen were never able to conceive - both being Gray Wardens. As it was, a mage on the throne of Ferelden was quite the controversy without the fact that she was a commoner and both King and Queen barren. The political fallout alone would have been difficult. But Alistair had hung on to the throne since the Blight and had ruled Ferelden well enough for Evelyn to respect the man. It wasn’t easy to drag a country like Ferelden kicking and screaming into peace.

 

With all that, the king has still sent Evelyn and Cullen gifts when he heard of their child, and again on Sam’s first and second birthday. He was quite… doting.

 

They stepped into the main hall where the appearance of the King of Ferelden brought an instant hush to the gathered nobles there. Evelyn and Alistair walked in as the king politely acknowledged bows and surprised muttered greetings.

 

“You know every time they do that, I get the feeling like they see me and realize they all dropped a penny,” Alistair muttered.

 

Evelyn chuckled. “Better you than me, your Majesty,” she said.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. They bow to me just because I’m king,” he replied. “They bow to you because they think you’re the hand of the Maker on Thedas. No pressure.”

 

“Thanks,” Evelyn said drily, holding the door to Josephine’s office open for him. In the War Room beyond, they took their seats around the table, all of them watching the king expectantly.

 

Alistair sighed and took off his crown, casting the heavy thing with a thud on the table. The crown spun on its rim and settled with a clunk. “That bloody thing gives me a headache,” he said, his expression serious.

 

“What can we do for you, your Majesty,” Evelyn said seriously.

 

“Perhaps some mulled wine to take the chill off,” Josephine said, heading to the sideboard to pour some wine.

 

“That would be nice,” Alistair said. He leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples. Then he looked up at Evelyn, Cullen and Leliana who were watching him. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

 

“Yes,” Cullen replied. Evelyn kicked him under the table and regretted instantly as her toe stung. Damn the man and his boots with metal on.

 

“Why are you here, your Majesty?” she asked, trying not to wince.

 

“The Inquisition has helped me twice before in the past,” Alistair said, straightening up. “Once when you killed those nasty Venatori spies in Denerim - thank you, Leliana - and again when you help me broker peace with Orlais - thanks to Lady Montiliyet’s glib tongue.” Josephine blushed as she handed him a goblet of mulled wine. “Now I may need your help to avert war once again - and possibly kill things. I always seem to come to you asking for something, don’t I?”

 

“Usually,” Evelyn said seriously. “But it’s what King’s do, your Majesty. Ask for things.”

 

Alistair chuckled. “That it is,” he replied, sipping his wine. “I had to come to you personally time time, however, as the matter is urgent and… personal.” He reached into his waist pouch and drew out a rolled up parchment tube, which he set on the table. Evelyn unrolled it and pulled out the parchment within. She read it, her brow furrowing seriously.

 

“Is Bhelen serious?” she asked, looking up from the parchment as she set it down on the table. “A declaration of war?”

 

“I hope not! Though he probably is.”

 

“What?” Cullen exclaimed, taking the parchment and reading it. “Maker’s breath - ‘Unless reparations are made for the heinous crimes committed by the Queen of Ferelden against the Crown of Orzammar’?”

 

Leliana’s eyes narrowed slightly.

 

“What did she do?” Evelyn asked.

 

“That’s the thing,” Alistair said gravely. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her since summer.” He leaned back in the chair and cocked his ankle on one knee. “Sol was away to Weisshaupt several years ago, looking for a cure for the Calling. We both heard it in Weisshaupt and Denerim - especially when Corypheus was playing with Warden minds. But perhaps because we were so far away, it didn’t affect us that much. Still, she came back a year ago. But then, she went off again last winter, picking up on some leads of a cure.”

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “In her last letter, she mentioned she was in Orzammar - that there was a dangerous development among the Darkspawn. That was the last I heard of her. I’ve no idea what these crimes are that Bhelen speaks about. My messengers have not returned from the mountains either so I’ve no idea what reparations they even want.”

 

Evelyn looked at Leliana. “The letter was dated a week ago - has the Inquisition received any word from Orzammar?”

 

“My agents have reported political turmoil - though that’s usual for Orzammar. There are extreme Isolationists who seek to overturn Bhelen’s policies of open trade in the Assembly. There is also rumour that the Legion of the Dead are killing dwarves as well, but until now, this has been strictly an internal affair.”

 

“But the lyrium trade has not stemmed,” Cullen said. “We are still trading with the dwarves.”

 

“We are their second biggest customers besides the Templars,” Josephine pointed out. “But this is serious - if Ferelden goes to war-”

 

“Which is won’t,” Alistair said firmly. “I intend to lead a peace deputation to Orzammar to hold talks with Bhelen. I need a peace envoy, a neutral third party - and the Inquisition is perfect.”

 

“Why?” Cullen asked.

 

“Because we buy from them,” Josephine said. “They will be more open to negotiate knowing that our coin is also at stake in this matter.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Cullen replied. “I meant why do you have to lead this, your majesty? In the past, the Inquisition brokered peace as intermediaries but now you want to walk right in the door.” He paused. “With respect.”

 

Alistair sighed. “Because I have to find Sol,” he replied. “I don’t think it would be wise to walk into Orzammar on my own. I don’t want a war, Maker forbid. And I don’t want to find out my wife is dead in the Deep Roads or executed for crimes she may not have committed.”

 

“May not have committed?” Evelyn asked.

 

“My wife is stubborn. She might have done something without stopping to explain.”

 

“Hm,” Cullen said, glancing at Evelyn. “We prefer the term ‘indomitable’.”

 

“Doesn’t it mean the same thing?” Alistair asked.

 

“Yes, but one doesn’t get you shouted at.”

 

“Ah, you’re a wise man, Commander.”

 

Evelyn loftily ignored Cullen. “So allow me to understand this correctly, Majesty,” she said. “You want my agents to talk to Bhelen on your behalf to broker peace and avert a war incited by unknown crimes allegedly committed by the Queen of Ferelden.”

 

“Not agents,” Alistair said simply. “I need you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I need you. The Inquisitor. You are respected and news of a new danger among the Darkspawn ought to be investigated - it poses a threat to all of Thedas. I’d go to the Wardens, but you happen to have them all, don’t you?”

 

“We are the Divine’s Honour Guard,” Evelyn pointed out.

 

“And the Divine would be significantly dishonored if Ferelden were annexed by Darkspawn or dwarves who killed the King because he stupidly walked into their city to broker peace on his own when there’s a declaration of war. She would have to call an Exalted March. That would be unpleasant for everyone.”

 

Evelyn looked at him through narrowed eyes. She was aware that she was being subtly pushed into a corner. He was going to go no matter what, and he was giving them a chance to control the possible fallout of the situation. “You said that you knew it would not be wise to walk into Orzammar on your own, your majesty.”

 

“I never pretended to be wise,” Alistair shrugged. “Did I, Leliana?”

 

Leliana sighed with a wry smile. “No, you never did,” she replied. “You would walk through fire for Solona.”

 

Alistair gestured to her grandly. “See? A woman who knows me!”

 

Evelyn sighed. Damn. She might be outmaneuvered here. “Allow us to consider this matter, your Majesty,” she said.

 

“Of course,” Alistair replied. “I hope to leave within three days.” He stood up.

 

Josephine stood as well. “I will show you to your quarters, Sire,” she said, following Alistair out of the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Then it opened again as Alistair came in to pick up his crown from where it lay on the table. “Stupid thing,” he said, shutting the door once more behind him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New story! New insanity! New meeting of the power couples we all love. Where will this go? We shall see...  
> Also the title is a pun on the word 'therein'. I... had to point it out because I'm punny like that.


	2. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you try clever ploys with your wife, you'd better be ready for the consequences of your actions.

“Alistair has us nicely in a corner,” Leliana said, leaning her elbows on the table. “It would appear that he truly wants to go ahead with this.”

 

“I know,” Evelyn said, leaning back. “We will need to get word to Cassandra. Leliana, can you get a bird out to her explaining the King’s request? It  I also need your agents to confirm the situation in Orzammar - if there truly was a declaration of war.”

 

Leliana nodded.

 

“You have three days. We will leave then.”

 

“What?” Cullen looked at her.

 

“I have to go, Cullen,” she said. “You know I have to. I am the Inquisitor. I can’t let this escalate into a war or another Blight. We will bring along an entourage - Wardens among other agents and soldiers.”

 

“And if my agents come back from Orzammar with confirmation of otherwise,” Leliana asked, “that there is no war?”

 

“Then at least I’ll have Alistair next to me so I can yell at him personally,” Evelyn shrugged. “Either way, I don’t propose to let the king ride off into a blizzard through hostile mountains and the Deep Roads.”

 

Cullen sighed heavily, disapproval in his frown.

 

“I know you would prefer for me to stay safe in Skyhold, Cullen,” she sighed. “You can scold me for leaving on my own again later.”

 

“If you’re set on this,” Cullen said seriously. “Then I will take these three days to get our honour guard ready and a platoon of Wardens to accompany you. Would it be foolish to advise you to leave your weapons behind and take on a purely diplomatic role.”

 

Evelyn looked at him steadily.

 

“Point taken,” Cullen sighed.

 

It was then that Josephine returned. She sighed and sat back down. “I take it the Inquisitor is going?” she said simply as she picked up her clipboard.

 

“Naturally,” Evelyn smiled, steepling her fingers on the arms of her chair. “Can you get ambassadors to Orzammar to alert them of our coming - telling them that this is a mission of peace. Perhaps some of Leliana’s agents can go with your ambassadors. She has the fastest messenger relay in the mountains.”

 

Josephine frowned, looking at the map. “I don’t think we can get far with the coming blizzard,” she said. “But I can dispatch fast horses ahead of you when you leave.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “Then we’ll let his Majesty stew for a few days, gives me a good chance to chew him out for this and find out more about what’s going on - or at least beat him at Wicked Grace.”

 

She saw Cullen rubbing his temple. “Then we’ll close the  meeting here," Evelyn stood up, "we all know what to do.” Leliana and Josephine stood to leave

 

Evelyn and Cullen headed out to return to their quarters. There, Mia was seated before the fire, playing with Sam. When the toddler saw Evelyn and Cullen enter, he squirmed away from Mia. “Da!” Sam called. Evelyn watched as Cullen glowed with pride and swept his son up in his arms.

 

“I’m jealous,” Evelyn pouted. Cullen laughed and brought Sam over to kiss her. “Hello, little lion,” she grinned as Sam crawled from Cullen’s arms into hers.

 

Mia chuckled as she stood up. “Don’t bruise him with your armour,” she warned.

 

“Yes, Aunty Mia,” Evelyn said, bouncing Sam against her with her one arm. “Say thank you to Aunty Mia.”

 

Sam burbled instead.

 

“What was the meeting with the King about?” Mia asked.

 

“Politics,” Cullen sighed. “Best not to enquire, Mia.”

 

Mia nodded. “I’ll take my leave then, I think you’ll have things to discuss with each other and it’d be best if I were out of the way.”

 

Evelyn watched her go. When the door shut, she looked at Cullen. “Well?” she asked. “Do we have things to discuss with each other? By that she means you’re going to yell at me for a while till you feel better.”

 

“I am the soul of gentility,” Cullen said loftily.

 

“Mmhm.” Evelyn knew his triggers. Usually, he’d be yelling. He always did when she found a reason to leave the keep to go on some expedition. He’d glower about it for days. Then the farewell sex would be amazing. Then she would leave and return and things would settle.

 

Instead of the tirade, Cullen calmly went to shut the balcony’s double doors against the chill.

 

Evelyn stared at him. “You’re not going to yell at me?” she asked, feeling somehow cheated. She would have liked the angry make up sex.

 

“No,” he replied.

 

She hugged Sam to her. “Why not?” Evelyn asked, puffing her cheeks pugnaciously.

 

Cullen chuckled. “Are we going to fight about why we’re not fighting?” he asked.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen shook his head. “I understand why you’re doing it, Evelyn. I would do the same in your shoes. We’ll probably fight about something later but not till I confirm a few matters first. Then we can have that make-up love making that you so enjoy.”

 

“What?” Evelyn blushed to the roots of her hair.

 

“Sometimes you start fights just for that,” he said, coming up to her with that insufferably attractive smirk.

 

Damn. That was true, but she didn’t think he knew. He was astute, she forgot that sometimes. “I- I do not!” she protested. He said nothing, just smirking at her as he stood near her - the smell of him washing over her in musky temptation. She glared at him. “I don’t like you,” she pouted, her face flaming red. “You’re a bad man.”

 

He chuckled, his voice made husky by the cold. She turned away from him in a huff, holding Sam who was tugging at the fur on her shoulders. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to the kitchens. I’ll have them send up something to eat. Then I’ll be away settling the keep before the blizzard comes.”

 

She glanced at him. “Then you’re going to the Rest?” she asked. He usually did when he had a long day. He'd eat at the rest so as to not disturb their sleep.

 

“Possibly.”

 

“Alright,’ she said, willing the blush from her cheeks. 

 

+++++

 

There was still much to do in Skyhold for Cullen. He called a meeting with his Captains, organized deployment for the honour guard and arranged for missives to be sent out to Soldier’s Peak for a contingent of Wardens to meet them at Gherlen’s Pass. It was already late by the time he finished. The gales were sweeping Skyhold, tearing at his shawl and fur as he walked the battlements to the tavern. Evelyn would have eaten by now and was probably putting Sam to sleep, or asleep herself.

 

Cullen descended the stairs, chilled to the bones. He winced as he climbed down, his joints stiff and the weight of the armour wasn’t helping. The Herald’s Rest was nearly empty when he entered. “Hello Flissa,” he said to the woman behind the bar.

 

“Commander,” she said. “Want some grub? We’ve got some meat on the fire.”

 

“That will do. And some West Hills, if you have any.”

 

He went to a table and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck as the headache came back. Every time he rested, it would return with vigour. He was either busy or in pain. Flissa brought him a plate of roast nug with potatoes and a bottle of West Hills brandy with a clean cup. He smiled up at her gratefully and pulled off his gloves. He started to eat as the gale howled outside.

 

The door slammed open then, letting in the cold and the roar of the gale. “Maker’s breath!” Alistair winced, his cloak flaring about him and over his head. “Blasted-” He shut the door and pulled the cloak off his face.

 

“Settling in, your Majesty?” Cullen asked mildly. He noted that the man wasn’t wearing his crown.

 

“Can we dispense with the ‘Majesties’, Cullen?” Alistair asked.

 

“As your Majesty wishes.”

 

“Yes, my Majesty does,’ Alistair chuckled, taking off his cloak. “My Majesty also wonders if he could join you.”

 

Cullen gestured to the chair in front of him. Alistair draped his cloak over the back of a chair and sat down opposite Cullen at his table. “So, what was the verdict?” Alistair asked.

 

“Have you eaten?” Cullen asked.

 

“No.”

 

“The spiced nug is nice.” Cullen waved to Flissa behind the bar, who nodded and went into the kitchens. Cullen turned back to Alistair. “Perhaps we should wait for the Inquisitor to tell you.”

 

“Why? Can’t you tell me? She’s your wife,” Alistair said and paused. “Nevermind, I think I answered my own question.”

 

Flissa came with a plate of food and filled two cups of brandy for them both. Alistair took a sip of the brandy and raised his eyebrows. “That’s actually nice,” he said appreciatively.

 

“It’s Eve’s favourite,” Cullen said as he ate. “So are you being serious about the whole peace disputation?”

 

“Cut straight to the point, don’t you? No buttering me up first? No foreplay? Just right to ‘Oh, Alistair, I totally believe you but actually I don’t’ sarcastic interrogation?”

 

Cullen raised an eyebrow.

 

“Maker’s breath, you’re so Chantry,” Alistair sighed as he ate.

 

“You’ve said before when we were recruits, as I recall,” Cullen replied. “Numerous times, in fact - often when trying to ask me to do something stupid.”

 

“It’s called education,” Alistair shrugged. “You were a new recruit - I was educating you in survival in the Templars.”

 

“By stealing buns from the kitchen?” Cullen asked.

 

“Oh, that one,” Alistair laughed. “We had to scrub pots for days.”

 

“That didn’t make us the best of friends, if you remember,” Cullen smiled faintly.

 

“Yes, I know you didn’t like me. You were so serious, Cullen. But that made you an infinitely better Templar than I ever was.”

 

“Yes, it probably did,” Cullen nodded gravely.

 

“My, aren't you humble...”

 

“You left before your training got really underway,” Cullen shrugged. “Do you even remember anything about Massache’s Method?”

 

“Oh, ouch! Stabs to the ego are the worst! You can’t learn sword fighting out of a scroll, Cullen.”

 

Cullen smirked slightly. “That’s why I’m the better Templar.”

 

“We’re measuring methods, are we?” Alistair grinned. “I fought an Archdemon, you know, and you’re here measuring your methods with me? I’d ask you to draw your sword, ser, if mine weren’t frozen solid in its sheathe!”

 

“Alistair can’t get his blade up? That’s… entirely expected,” Cullen grinned back.

 

“Oh, those are fighting words, Commander!”

 

They paused, grinning at each other from ear to ear. “All we need now is for one of us to throw a punch and Knight Captain Warren would walk in the door and banish us both to the scullery!” Alistair laughed.

 

Cullen couldn’t help but laugh along. “Well, at least our insults have grown in finesse,” he said through the laughter. “Turd Shoveller and Idiot Bastard tended to get old, didn’t they?”

 

Alistair wiped a tear from his eye as he laughed. “A toast to the Turd Shoveller!” he raised his glass.

 

“And to the Idiot Bastard!” Cullen joined in. They took a long drink. Cullen sighed and lowered his glass. Then he looked at Alistair seriously once more, his honeyed-eyes hard as steel. “So what is your real motive for the peace deputation?” he asked.

 

“Maker!” Alistair slumped in the chair. “I thought you forgot about that.”

 

“Did you really?”

 

“Can’t blame a man for trying.”

 

“Alistair!”

 

“What!”

 

“You’re asking my wife to leave her child for this,” Cullen said sternly. “I think I ought to know if your reason is a good one. Honestly, tell me, what is it you want to accomplish? Peace or finding Solona?”

 

“Honestly? I could just lie to you.”

 

“I have faith in you,” Cullen said firmly. “You were an idiot, but you were honest, as I recall. I hope that hasn’t changed.”

 

Alistair winced. “Well, when you put it like _that_ …” he grumbled and took a long swig of his brandy. “I want peace,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know what happened to Solona. If I could find her, that would be good, of course.” Alistair pushed away his empty plate. He frowned, his hazel eyes hard. “I love Solona, but… Ferelden comes first. There cannot be a war with Orzammar.”

 

Cullen blinked. Alistair was different from his time as a Templar. He was frivolous before, but now he fought for a greater good. Even at the expense of his wife? Cullen refilled Alistair’s glass with brandy, his own mind made up.

 

“Then don’t worry,’ Cullen said simply and left it at that.

 

Alistair smiled slightly and nodded, sipping his brandy. “We should though,” he said thoughtfully then.

 

“Should what?”

 

“Spar. One day. Perhaps when this is all over. I want to see how by the books your Machette Method is.”

 

“Massache’s Method,” Cullen chuckled. “I might get in trouble for damaging the king.”

 

“And I want to shut that mouth up,” Alistair added. “I didn’t think you were so sassy, Commander.”

 

“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, Alistair,” Cullen laughed. “We were both really ignorant kids when we parted. You went to the Gray while I was posted to the Circle. Many things have happened to us both.”

 

“That’s true. You didn’t even recognize me when we came by the Circle during the Blight. You only recognized Sol.”

 

“She was prettier than you,” Cullen shrugged. “And I was… not myself at the time.” Cullen caught Alistair smiling in wistful amusement at him over the rim of his cup. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Alistair laughed. “Don’t you find it strange? Both of us saved from the Chantry, sort of. Free of lyrium, in possession of our own minds and married to ladies we’re frankly not deserving of.”

 

“True, but don’t tell them that, though,” Cullen said. “We don’t want them to actually realize that fact, you see. It’s bad for us.”

 

Their glasses clinked. “That’s the Maker’s own truth,” Alistair laughed.

 

++++

 

The following evening, Evelyn convened a meeting in the War Room. Evelyn was wrapped up in a cloak against the cold of the swirling blizzard outside. Everything visible was slate gray. It was depressing. Though she knew it was still daylight, it looked like night thanks to the storm. The blizzard truly dulled her mood, making her feel irritable. She sighed as she sat down in her chair, Cullen, Josephine and Leliana taking their seats around the table. Around them, the wind howled like a hungry spectre. Their papers fluttered in the errant draughts. Not even the heavy tapestries hung over the windows could keep out the storm winds. They had weighed down their papers with map markers.

 

Evelyn’s fingers were cold even in her gloves. Damn Solas for suggesting a mountain keep. Couldn’t they have a nice keep on a beach somewhere instead? She set a map marker on the edge of the map of Ferelden as it fluttered on the table. The guttering torch lights reflected fitfully on the polished wood of the marker. “Maker curse this storm,” she complained.

 

“At least we know that there’s little chance of attack,” Cullen muttered, sounding slightly annoyed. “The men have been complaining incessantly, of course. They complain worse than women someti-”

 

Evelyn, Josephine and Leliana shot him glances. “Er, that is- present company excepted,” he added lamely, clearing his throat. “T-that did not come out the way I intended, I apologize.”

 

Evelyn shook her head. “He’s been taking Adan’s tinctures,” she said to the ladies. “He’s had quite a lot this afternoon.”

 

“Are you still down with the cold?” Josephine asked.

 

“It is of no concern,” Cullen assured her.

 

“Let’s get down to business. Any updates?” Evelyn asked her advisors.

 

“Our birds to Cassandra and Orzammar went out just in time before the storm hit this afternoon,” Leliana said. “We should be getting responses by tomorrow, weather permitting.”

 

“We will plan to move out regardless as discussed,” Evelyn said. A servant brought him some warm mulled wine for them. Cullen took a grateful sip. He had spent the day up and about despite the blizzard and the tincture that tasted like a horse’s arse, according to him, as he organised the honour guard. Evelyn did not question how he knew to make that comparison but Cullen’s ability to moderate what he said tended to deteriorate when he was on medicine.

 

“I suppose none of our Ambassadors went out today,” Evelyn said to Josephine.

 

“No, not with the storm, they’d be killed before they reached Honnleath,” Josephine replied. “Once the storm breaks, they will be dispatched on Master Dennet’s fastest horses.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “And how goes the honour guard?”

 

“We have a hundred of our best men ready,” Cullen reported. “The Wardens from Soldiers Keep have sent confirmation that they will meet us at Gherlen’s Pass within a day’s notice.”

 

“Who are we sending in charge of the guard?” Evelyn asked.

 

Cullen looked at her from across the table, his expression suddenly oddly calm. “Me.”

 

“What?” Evelyn exclaimed. “Absolutely not!”

 

“Oh dear,” Leliana murmured as Josephine leaned back in her chair in resignation.

 

“I’m leading the guard, unless you can think of someone better,” Cullen said evenly.

 

“How about Rylen?” Evelyn demanded. “Anyone other than the father of my child, perhaps?”

 

“Are you saying Rylen is better than me?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then, the decision has been made.”

 

“I refuse to accept this!” Evelyn snapped. “You are not going with me, Commander!”

 

“I am.”

 

“I order you not to go!” She glared at him, her blue eyes hard.

 

“You are ordering me?” He blinked innocently at her. What was he up to?

 

“Yes.”

 

“As Inquisitor?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Oh my. Then I cannot go against the orders of the Inquisitor. I am merely the Commander.” He sighed in a slightly theatrical way. “Thus it is with regret that I must submit my resignation as Commander of the Inquisition.”

 

Evelyn didn’t realize that she had stood up and slammed her hand on the table, her chair scraping back over the stone floor. “I refuse to accept!” she snarled through grit teeth.

 

“That is your wish, dear wife,” Cullen replied coolly in the face of her anger. “Should I leave the room? I really should be packing to join you in Orzammar.”

 

“Why you-” Evelyn began, feeling the heat of her anger rising to her cheeks. She stopped short, seeing the slight smirk on his face. “I’ll have you chained to the bed!” she shouted.

 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen gasped in shock. “You shouldn’t talk about that in company! That’s private!” Leliana tittered and covered it with a light cough behind her hand under Evelyn’s glare

 

Evelyn let out a cry of frustration, running her hand through her hair and messing up the braid he was woven for her in the morning. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford - I could honestly strangle you right now!” she cried in exasperation as she slumped back into her chair, glaring at him spitefully.

 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Evelyn,” Cullen said in a mollifying tone. At least he had the presence of mind to win gracefully.

 

“No, you’re not,” Evelyn snapped at him as she leaned her head against her good hand on the arm of her chair. For all that Cullen was as blunt and direct as a punch to the face, he could be quite subtle in his machinations, as she’d found out since Ostwick. Since their visit to her family, something bloomed in him to make him… insufferably good at winning arguments with her. “Let’s move on - we’ll talk about this later, _Commander_ ,” she growled. 

 

Josephine cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should meet when the weather breaks and we get further news from Val Royeaux and Orzammar?” she suggested. “With that, we should be able to let King Alistair know our response officially.”

 

“Presuming the weather breaks,” Evelyn said. “If not, we’ll follow him regardless so I can drag him back by the scruff of  his neck if Cassandra disapproves of the deputation.” And I’m irritated enough as it is, Evelyn thought. That Alistair had better not argue, king or no king!

 

++++

 

Cullen was ready the minute Evelyn shut the door to their chambers. She stormed up the stairs and blinked. “Where’s Sam?” she demanded.

 

“I asked Mia to keep him with her today,” Cullen replied mildly as he climbed the stairs.

 

She rounded on him, her mage robes flaring about her as her eyes flashed angrily, her cheeks mottled, her hand on her hip. He knew he was in for a yelling at but at least she looked pretty when she was screaming at him. “You planned all that, didn’t you?” she snarled.

 

He didn’t answer, only looking up at her with wide eyes as he stood half way up the stairs.

 

She snarled at the sight of his expression of gormless innocence. “Argh! Andraste’s fucking flaming arse on a pike!” she screamed, storming into the room out of sight.

 

And that was why he didn’t want Sam around when they fought, Cullen sighed inwardly. He wanted his son to learn how to talk, but would prefer if he didn’t learn the more colourful side of the language at least until he was old enough to carry a sword.

 

Cullen followed her into the room. She was pulling off her leather robes, swearing viciously as she dropped them on the desk. “Resigning indeed!” she snarled. “Damn you, Cullen! I don’t want you going!”

 

“I’m going.”

 

“If anything happens to us, Sam is left alone!”

 

“No, he has Mia, and Ehren, for that matter,” Cullen replied. “I don’t want anything happening to you either. That is better accomplished when I’m standing next to you in Orzammar, there to possibly physically hold you back from assaulting the Deep Roads or something. I would feel better with that than worrying here in Skyhold, watching the sky for birds bearing ill news.”

 

“And you came up with this stupid resignation thing?” she asked, striding up to him, her breast plate flashing in the light of the fire.

 

Time for honesty. “Yes,” Cullen admitted. “If it was going to work only once, it had to be today.” 

 

She strode up to him and poked him in the chest, snarling as he backed away from her. “You deliberately came up with this idea to rile me up and back me into a corner and then threaten me with resignation if you didn’t get your way!” Her finger poking his breastplate to emphasize every point, her eyes flashing with fury.

 

His legs hit the foot of their bed. He fell back onto it, leaning on his elbows. He was forcing himself not to smile as she straddled him. He lay back down with her on top of him as she pushed his shoulders down. She tilted her head then and took his wrist, pulling his arm up. There was the sound of cracking ice and a sudden chill on his wrist. He looked up to see his arm shackled to the bed with bonds of ice.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, taken by surprise.

 

“I could leave you like this, you know,” she said, sitting on him, subtly rubbing herself against his length. He pulled at the shackle, which held fast. “I am the Inquisitor.”

 

“Once you get far enough away, the spell would break,” Cullen smirked slightly. “I’d still come after you.”

 

Her blue-eyed glare locked with his eyes, her finger drawing a cold line down the middle of his breastplate, leaving thin tendrils of frost in its path. “Could you? Even after I ravaged you before I left?” she purred and grabbed his other wrist, locking it over his head to the bedpost with another bind of cold.

 

He glared up at her, his heart hammering in his ears. Ravaging was not unfamiliar to him, but with his hands bound? This was new.

 

She touched her chilly fingers to her chin, the cold radiating off her fingertips as she looked at him thoughtfully. “You actually look quite good like this,” she said, sounding slightly breathless.

 

“Really,” he droned. Did he? Did women like this sort of thing?

 

“Hm,” she mused. “I’m going to make you pay for this resignation rubbish, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.” She touched a cold finger to his lips, sending chills down to his core as he wrapped his lips around her fingertip. It was as cold as ice. The sensation was bizarrely erotic. Her eyes were half-lidded as she watched him, her breath coming through parted lips as her messy braid hung over her shoulder. “You’ll pay, alright. Several times tonight, I think.” And she leaned down to kiss him as the blizzard howled outside.

 

++++

 

On the evening of the second day. Evelyn entered the War Room with her Advisors, the metal breastplate of her Inquisition armour glinting in the torch light. The blizzard was raging outside but it had lost most of its bite. Still, the War Room was freezing despite the braziers. The meeting wasn’t for another ten minutes. Josephine was escorting Alistair over, she was sure. Evelyn looked down at the map thoughtfully, leaning her head on her hand. “You’re looking better today,” Leliana said to Cullen.

 

“Must be the tincture,” he smiled at her.

 

Evelyn chuckled. “Of course, it is,” she said. “Or, the fact that you slept better.”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Does he snore?” Leliana asked.

 

“Only when he’s really tired,” Evelyn laughed. “And he was _very_ tired last night.”

 

“I don’t see how this is important right now,” Cullen grumbled, blushing slightly as Leliana tittered. He was idly rubbing his wrist.

 

“Awe, I think it’s cute,” Leliana said.

 

The door opened then and Alistair stepped in with Josephine. They stood when he entered. “Don’t bother,” Alistair said, gesturing for them to sit. “Can we make things a little less formal?”

 

“As you wish, Alistair,” Evelyn said as she sat down.

 

Alistair and Josephine sat down. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

 

“The Inquisition has received word this afternoon from Divine Cassandra, endorsing our participation in your mission of peace,” Evelyn reported. “We will serve intermediaries for the peace talks, just as we have done for Ferelden and Orlais.”

 

Alistair blinked. “Good,” he said. “That was painless.”

 

“I will serve as a representative of the Chantry and as Inquisitor in the talks. Should any investigations be required, the Inquisition will take charge. We will also have our forces serve as your personal honour guard,” Evelyn said.

 

“I already have a bunch of burly people following me about.”

 

“Divine Victoria has lent her support of the peace talks by assigning her own honour guard to you, your Majesty. It would help to ensure your personal safety,” Josephine explained.

 

“Right, what could possibly go wrong during peace talks, right?” Alistair said.

 

“It means, if I tell you to sit and stay, you will sit and stay, your Majesty,” Evelyn bluntly pointed out, ignoring Josephine’s wince. “Divine Victoria cannot risk war, but she also fears a power vacuum in Ferelden. The country cannot be without a king.”

 

“Right, I get it, I get it,” Alistair said, holding his hands up. “You’re basically the boss on this expedition, I get it.”

 

Evelyn smiled warmly at him. “Basically,” she chirped.

 

“Wow. Subtle,” Alistair laughed. “You married this woman, Cullen?”

 

“At least it’s never boring,” Cullen murmured, sounding slightly bemused as Evelyn smiled in a somewhat smug manner. It was still a little uncomfortable to sit down. Cullen rarely disappointed. 

 

“Then we will leave in the morning,” Evelyn said. “We look forward to travelling with you, King Alistair.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they journey forth - and Cullen and Evelyn are as dysfunctionally functional as ever. Let me know how you enjoyed the story! Comments keep me writing :)


	3. The Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against Cullen's wishes, Evelyn uses a dangerous new weapon.

The following morning, the blizzard had stilled into fitful gusts of wind with snow. Skyhold was covered in fluffy mounds of snow that reached to the shoulders in some places. Already, staff were feverishly shoveling a path across the bridge.

“We’re going to have a problem,” Alistair said as he scratched the stubble on his chin. He stood with his horse, looking out over the bridge at the snow being shovelled off the side. Around him, soldiers were forming up under Cullen’s sharp commands. Alistair had to admire the man - there was being a King and there was being a Commander. One held people’s hearts, the other governed people’s heads. Evelyn was next to him, bundled up in a fur-trimmed cloak. She looked out at the snow with disapproval on her face. Then she strode out onto the bridge and ordered the staff off the bridge.

Alistair watched her stand at the gates, her cloak swirling about her. Then she stretched out her hand and flames flared forth, almost blinding the eyes as they melted the snow on the bridge.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair exclaimed, shielding his eyes. “Isn’t that sort of excessive?”

“Eve is excessive in a lot of things,” Cullen said, stepping up to Alistair. Alistair noticed the Commander idly rubbing at a wrist. On the bridge, Evelyn was walking towards the end, the roar of her flames carried in the wind. “Once the bridge is clear, we can go, your Majesty.”

“She must be handy with campfires,” Alistair said mildly, beginning to see how this woman could have defeated an ancient magister darkspawn. “Well, I guess you can’t have the job of taking keeps single-handedly, fighting god monsters and running an Inquisition if you were not excessive sometimes. Is she grinning?”

Cullen sighed softly. Grooms broug two horses to them, both with luxurious manes and feathering at their hooves. One was tall and black, donned in armour with its mane braided intricately down the side of its neck. The other was a lithe roan mare, its blonde mane flowing as it walked. It too was donned in armour with dragon horns on its helm.

Evelyn was indeed grinning when she walked back, the bridge free of snow. She shook her fingers, the fingertips red.

“Did you burn yourself?” Cullen asked. So calm was his voice, Alistair noted. This sort of thing happened often, apparently.  

“Naturally! But it was fun,” she grinned wickedly. Cullen wordlessly picked up some snow and gave it to her to ice her fingers. She looked over his shoulder and saw a rather pretty lady of a certain age, Alistair tactfully put it, carrying young Sam. The baby was bundled in a fur trimmed onesie. Evelyn grinned, her eyes alight as she kissed the baby’s cheek and took the child in her arm, bouncing him on her hip. Sam was playing with the fur of her collar. Cullen drifted over, his face lit with a gentle smile as Evelyn passed the baby to him. Sam buried his face in his father’s fur shawl with glee, squealing delightedly amidst the red and black fur. Cullen’s laughter cut Alistair’s heart deep with envy.

Alistair turned away from that impossible dream. Even if the cure could be found, what use was there? Sol and he weren’t getting any younger. Children wouldn’t be part of their future - not their own, anyway.

“My king!” Alistair heard. He groaned inwardly and turned to see his senechal coming up to him. Teyrn Fergus Cousland looked livid, his brow furrowed into a frown and his hair shot with gray. “I must protest this venture once again! Ambassadors would suffice. There is no reason for you to go personally! What if-”

“You’re wrong there, Fergus,” Alistair said simply. Time to be king. “I have to go on my own. It would show we’re serious about peace.”

“But you could be taken hostage!” Fergus said through grit teeth.

“We’ve been fighting about this for days, Fergus, I’m not changing my mind,” Alistair snapped as he mounted his horse, which was looking a bit less grand than the Inquisition horses. “Stay here at the keep. I’ll need someone to manage things in case anything... happens and you can be assured the Inquisition would be the first to know if anything does.”

“King Alistair!” Fergus tried again.

“That’s my final word on the subject, Fergus. Take care of yourself.” Alistair turned to Evelyn who was mounting her horse. He adjusted the crown on his head, the damn thing already giving him a headache.

“Are you ready, Majesty?” she asked.

“Dare I say no?” Alistair asked. They rode out at the head of the column of Inquisition and Ferelden forces. Evelyn and Alistair rode side by side with Cullen behind them. Alistair was surprised by Cullen’s inclusion in their party, but it was best not to enquire in the intricacies of marriage, which he suspected was a little more complicated for Eve and Cullen, who were boss and subordinate. Technically, Alistair himself outranked Sol but he would be a fool to insist it behind closed doors. Ah, love. Archdemons were easier.

There was a mournful bark behind them. Alistair turned to see young Sam hanging on to a black and white Mabari, who whined as they rode away.

Alistair sighed inwardly. Cullen and Evelyn were a couple of lucky bastards who got exactly what they deserved. No point envying them, it didn’t do to dwell.

They crossed the bridge, the soldiers glittering in the cold winter sun as they marched in their ranks. Alistair couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement, riding with these many men at his back. “That was an exciting departure,” Alistair said. “Do you always set fire to the bridge like this?”

“Technically, I was melting snow,” Evelyn grinned, tossing her braid off her shoulder.

“Right, of course. You know, most people use shovels.”

“But that’s ten times slower and ten times less fun,” she shrugged. “I’ve been cooped up for too long. I’m itching to get out and burn stuff.’

“Right, creepy, forget I asked,” Alistair leaned away from her slightly.

Evelyn laughed. “You’re safe from me, your Majesty,” she smiled at him archly. “For now. You’re on my good side.”

Alistair burst into laughter as well. “I shall strive to stay there, Lady Inquisitor!” he said. “Are you like this with everybody?”

“Of course no-”

“Yes.” Cullen’s mutter was audible enough.

“Commander Cullen, thank you for your input,” Evelyn said loftily.

They descended into the mountain pass, which was strangely free of the deep snow drifts. Eventually, they made their way through Honnleath. The villagers came out to watch them pass. Seeing the king, they gasped and threw flowers under his horse’s hooves. Alistair put on his king face and waved. There were smiles and flowers offered to him as well, a little girl running up to Alistair’s horse to give him a handful of daisies. Alistair grinned and pat her on the head as he took the daisies. The girl blushed and giggled before running back to her mother.

A pretty young lady also ran up with flowers… and gave them to Cullen. Cullen smiled awkwardly, holding the blooms. The Commander tried to avoid Evelyn’s eyes. Cullen’s life was definitely exciting.

“That happen often?” Alistair asked Evelyn conversationally.

“The flower strewing? No,” Evelyn replied.

“Not that one.”

“Oh,” she laughedm glancing at Cullen’s blushing face. “Yes. Quite. It’s fine.”

“Really?” Alistair asked. “I thought you’d be foaming at the mouth now.”

Evelyn’s laughter rose like a dove. “I can trust him wholeheartedly to be loyal. It’s getting him to listen to me that’s the trouble,” she said.

“Sounds familiar,” Alistair winced. “Don’t go, I said. The leads will be there in the spring, I said; but Sol has always had her own ideas about things.” He sighed, swallowing down the worry that rose in him at the thought of his wife. “She’s too determined. She wants to… save us no matter what.”

Evelyn put a gentle hand on his. “We’ll find her,” she promised. “And get to the bottom of this mess as well. I don’t think everything is what it seems.”

Alistair looked at her. “I don’t even know what it seems like,” he said. He just knew that war was not an option. At all. And if Sol was… no, he didn’t even want to think about it. “Which would not be unusual,” Alistair said. “If it weren’t for Fergus, I couldn’t even get my socks on right. Did you know I sewed the neck of my shirt closed once and was surprised when I couldn’t get it on?”

Evelyn smiled knowingly. “Let me ponder the diplomatic answer to that, sire,” she said.

“Ponder away, we have three days for you to get used to my constant chatter before we get to Gherlen’s Pass.”

++++

They camped off the Imperial Highway that night. The soldiers pitching tents in a defensible position atop a hillock. Cullen was uneasy about the trees around the camp and dispatched scouts into the woods. Alistair sat with Evelyn outside the two tents that were theirs. Between them, a fire cheerily burned, sparked by Evelyn’s magic. “Doesn’t he ever stop working?” Alistair asked as Cullen strode off into the camp, yelling about… something. “Does he always find something to yell about?”

Evelyn frowned as she pulled off her boot to warm her toes by the fire. “I think he’s got another headache,” she said. “He must have forgotten to take his medicine.”

“He’s unwell?” Alistair asked.

“Just a cold,” she smiled at Alistair, leaning her stump of an arm on one knee. “He’ll be fine as long as he has someone else to yell at.”

“It’s not the… lyrium thing?” Alistair asked quietly.

“It comes back when he’s unwell,” Evelyn replied. “Otherwise, he’s fine.” She looked at him. “I’m glad you never took lyrium.”

“Yes well, I got to drinking something else - as in darkspawn blood,” Alistair laughed.

Evelyn winced. “I’m sorry, that came out insensitive-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’d like to think the whole dark and tainted thing adds to my charm. Do women like that sort of thing?” Alistair waved away Evelyn’s apology. If only being free of the the Calling were a matter of will, ah well. “There are perks to it too,” he went on. “Er, though they were useful  at the time of the Blight, they’re slightly less useful in Denerim - the tainted I come across these days aren’t darkspawn, they’re too well-dressed.”

Evelyn laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stifle the giggles. “I say the same - but about Val Royeaux and demons!” she giggled. “At least with the demons, I’m allowed to set them on fire. You’re definitely not allowed to set dukes on fire, Josephine was adamant about that.”

“Ugh, I know,” Alistair sighed mournfully. “Then again, I’m king so it’s not like they can give me the sack. As long as I don’t offend anyone too badly, I can generally get away with things.”

“I’m Inquisitor,” she paused and frowned, looking slightly worried. “Can they fire me? I never thought about it.”

Alistair chuckled. “How old are you?” he asked. He raised his hands placatingly at her expression. “Seventeen, beautiful lady? I’m just curious.”

“I’m twenty-six,” she replied.

“Ah.”

“What does ‘ah’ mean?”

“Nothing! You seem so young and vibrant, I was just surprised- ow!” He rubbed his arm where she punched him. “That hurt!”

“You were not surprised, it’s something else. Spit it out, your Majesty.”

“No, really, you’re vibrant, I was honestly wondering how old you were.” he grinned.

“I’ll let that pass, for now,” she glared at him with a playful sidelong glance. She looked up then as Cullen returned, looking slightly pale. Cullen sat down beside his wife. “Everything in order, Commander?”

“As it will ever be,” he replied. “This isn’t Skyhold, but it’s defensible once we get the palisades up. Rylen should be reporting as soon as that’s done.”

“Then you should take your medicine,” she said. “I’ll go get it for you.” She disappeared into their tent.

Alistair looked at Cullen. “Under the weather?” he asked.

Cullen grunted as he warmed himself by the fire. “It’s of no concern,” he replied.

Alistair reached for his wine skin and a cup. He filled the cup and held it out to pass to Cullen. “I know, stop being a baby and drink your wine,” Alistair chuckled. “Man up, Com-”

There were whispers, whispers at the edge of hearing yet scraping across the brain like a skeletal hand. Alistair dropped the cup into the fire and stood up. The fire flared with the alcohol as Cullen swore, pulling his hand away from reaching for the wine.

Alistair’s eyes scanned the trees. Had he been imagining it? It had been so long since he’d heard what infernal whispering - how long had it been? He hadn’t heard that wound since the Blight…

“Alistair!”

He blinked and turned, Evelyn and Cullen staring at him. “What?” Alistair snapped.

“What’s the matter with you?” Evelyn asked, holding a small stoppered bottle.

Alistair looked back at the trees, but the whispering was gone. He felt a knot of suspicion balling inside him. “I think… you’d better get those palisades up as soon as possible,” Alistair said slowly. “And alert your scouts for any sign of Darkspawn.”

Cullen stood without a word and strode off to the tents, his barked orders ringing out over the hillock.

Evelyn was watching Alistair. “What can you sense?” she asked.

“Whispers,” Alistair replied. “They talk to each other… something like a- like a group mind, almost. I-” His voice trailed off as he tried to hear the Dawkspawn. When he focused on the Darkspawn group mind, it came back, a peaceful hum like a lullaby at the back of your mind. The Calling. “We’re not even near Orzammar. What in blazes is going on?”

“But you can confirm that they’re out there?” Evelyn asked firmly.

“I can confirm that I heard them, so it would be safe to assume they are in the vicinity.” He frowned into the trees. Had he been imagining it? No, it was familiar - like an old, old friend. He’d know that sound anywhere. “I’m heading out,” he said. “Maybe I can get a feel of where-”

Evelyn was in front of him in two steps. “You are not,” she snarled. “Not alone, at any rate.”

“Oh?” Alistair. “You’re not even protesting?”

“Why? You’re the only one here who can sense darkspawn. And I’m the only one here who can adequately cover you.”

“Er…”

“Wait for me,” she said, her voice crisp with command. She disappeared into the tent again as Alistair buckled on his sword from where it rested beside him. Evelyn emerged from the tent bearing a tubular black bag made of padded cloth. “Let’s go.”

“You’re coming with me?” Alistair asked, eyeing the bag.

“Naturally.”

“And… Cullen is going to like this bit of news,” Alistair said evenly.

“He’s going to insist he comes along, you watch.” She shouldered the bag. “But there are some arguments he cannot win.”

“Ah, marriage. It’s a wonderful thing.”

She headed off into the tents. Alistair shook his head and followed her. She sounded like Solona with all the brakes off.

They strode up to Cullen who was commanding the palisades’ erection around the camp. “Commander,” Evelyn said as they reached him. Alistair saw Cullen see the black bag and his expression darkened. “King Alistair and I are going out to track whatever’s out there. We need to see if we’re being tailed by Darkspawn.”

Cullen glared at her. “As you wish, Inquisitor. Perhaps I should-”

“That is out of the question, Commander,” Evelyn cut him off.

Evelyn seemed to stand taller now, though she was half a head shorter than Cullen. To Alistair’s surprise, Cullen did not argue. Cullen turned to a soldier next to him. “Rylen,” he said. “You and Charter are to accompany the Inquisitor. Go get Charter.”

The man known as Rylen nodded and headed off into the camp.

“There’s no purpose in having an honour guard if you leave it to go stomping around the woods, Inquisitor,” Cullen said to her, his expression like a thundercloud. “And you know the dangers of that thing.”

“That is precisely why you’re not coming,” Evelyn said, her eyes soft. “King Alistair is the only Gray Warden here and I’m the best mage in the camp. I’ll be his honour guard for now.”

Cullen glanced at Alistair, worry clearly written in his gaze. “Then if anything happens, send up a flare, I’ll come with troops to bring you back safely, gauntlet or no gauntlet.”

Evelyn sighed. “Yes, Commander,” she gave in. Rylen returned with an elf in tow. Alistair presumed this was Charter.

“Maker watch over you, Inquisitor,” Cullen said softly. She smiled gently at him and led the way out the gate, with Alistair, Rylen and Charter in tow.

++++

Alistair led the way through the barren winter trees, Evelyn, and Rylen following behind him. Charter ranged ahead, scouting their way through the forest. He could hear the whisper of Darkspawn - they were talking to each other. If he focused, he could just about understand…

He stopped, his boots crunching in the snow. They had walked almost a mile away from the camp into the winter-wrought woods, dark trees clawing at the moon. He shut his eyes and listened for those damn whispers. They were getting louder. They were nearby. He could feel it. “They’re around here,” he whispered, holding his drawn sword.

“Get Charter,” Evelyn said tersely. She still carried the bag on her shoulder, her good arm holding her spectral blade hilt.

Rylen let out a sharp bird-like whistle that seemed to echo through the forest. Mournful breeze hummed in the air. There was the sound of falling snow from a branch, which startled Alistair. “Maker’s breath,” he complained, looking around.

A figure dropped down from a tree before them. “There are tracks,” Charter said, her voice terse as she joined them. “In a gully, leading to a cave. Things came out, things went in carrying other things.”

“What things?”

“The tracks are strange,” Charter said. “I see boots, Darkspawn claws, and bare footprints.”

Evelyn frowned, biting her thumb nail. “Victims? Food?”

“Probably,” Alistair said. “Once we get to the cave, we should be able to tell, or at least seal it.” They drew their weapons, Evelyn’s blade springing to life. Charter whipped out her bow and led them along the path she followed. There was whispering the air. Alistair frowned as he strained his senses, fighting to hear the Darkspawn - perhaps even understand what they were saying. “They’re underneath,” he whispered as Charter slipped down a slope and out of sight.They followed her out of the trees into the illumination of the moon. Alistair drew his shield and readied his sword. Charter gestured with two fingers to a dark crevice in the ground before them. Tracks led into the snow. Something was dragged through the snow, leaving the rocks at the lip of the crevice free of any snow. Alistair saw hand marks in the snow, clawing their way out before being dragged back. He could hear the Darkspawn clearly now. There was the smell for one, a putrid odour of death and corruption that was familiar to him. He looked at Evelyn.

“Are they in there?” she asked him intently.

“Lots of them,” he replied. “You can smell them, even if you can’t hear them.”

She nodded and turned to the two inquisition soldiers. “Rylen, Charter, stand-”

It was the arrow’s buzz that alerted Alistair to its flight. He drew up his shield and blocked it, the arrow tip grazing Evelyn’s cheek. She swore. They came over the ridge, silent and savage - six dwarves pouring over the rocks with unblinking eyes as they wielded battle axes. Alistair parried a clumsy blow and stabbed the dwarf in the neck. The dwarf died without a sound. The dead dwarf sank to the earth, his face covered with raw and open sores, his hair ripped down to the scalp in places, his eyes pale and unseeing. Then rising up behind the dwarves were elves, bows drawn. Evelyn’s lightning seared the snow as it struck the elves, the Inquisitor darting back to gain range.

Alistair felt a barrier spring up around him. He blocked another axe strike with his shield, feeling the blade running over the steel plates on his shield. He stabbed at the dwarf. His blow was blocked by the dwarf’s pauldron. Alistair kicked him in the head instead. Lucky they were so short.

As the dwarf reeled, Rylen stabbed into the dwarf's face. The Inquisition Captain was holding two swords, one in each hand, with which he killed with quiet efficiency as he spun through the melee. An arrow whizzed overhead. Alistair saw Charter firing with her bow. An elven archer fell dead, dropping off the ridge like a falling sack of potatoes.

A dwarf charged at him. It was eerie how silent they were… Alistair blocked a blow and slashed at the dwarf’s elbow with a precise strike, ripping apart the mail. The dwarf didn’t even scream. He tried to laboriously raise his axe with his one good arm. Alistair cut the dwarf’s head off. It tumbled into the snow, spraying it red with blood.

“Fall back!” Evelyn commanded. Alistair turned to obey. Always obey the mage, he had learned early in his adventuring career. He frowned when he saw Evelyn. She had two arms. She stood before Charter whose bow was drawn, firing at the elven archers. Her left hand was a gauntlet, sharp metal armour covering a leather glove. The whole thing was infused with lyrium, glowing bright blue. Rylen and Alistair ran past them. Evelyn raised her hands as the moulded the veil around her. She grinned wickedly.

Lightning seared the ground from the cloudless sky. Their magical barriers around them flared from green to blue. Alistair felt himself bound in a spell shield, which flickered blue from the errant lightning bolts. Drawn by the metal of their armour, the pillars of lightning fried the elves and the dwarves, who spasmed in its sharp electric glow and fell dead. Without a sound.

Evelyn released both spells. Alistair felt himself free to move again, with a ringing in his ears and a purple glow in his eyeballs. The elves and the dwarves were burnt husks in the boiling snow. “What in the Maker’s name is that?” he demanded, pointing at her arm with the sword.

“Untested dwarven arcana,” she replied and balled her left hand into a fist. It sparked with lightning.

Alistair turned at the sound of a low growl from crevice. “Ogre,” he said sharply. “Seal it!”

Evelyn ran to the edge of the crevice. “Inquisitor!” Alistair and Rylen shouted.

Evelyn ignored them. A monstrously huge hand gripped the edge of the crevice, its skin purple in the moonlight, its fingernails caked with dried blood. Alistair was already running after her.

But Evelyn ignored the hand. Her left arm sparking with mana, she pulled at the Veil so hard even Alistair felt it warping around him, like a wrench to the gut. With a guttural cry, she brought her fist down on the ground in front of the crevice - the whole earth seemed to shake with the strike. There was a roar of frustration from within and the ogre’s hand vanished over the edge.

Alistair reached her. “Are you mad-!” he exclaimed.

Evelyn looked at the ground, the earth cracking under their feet, the snow splitting like trailing lightning from the mark of her strike.

“Oops,” she said quietly.

“Oops?” Alistair exclaimed incredulously. “Run!” he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. They fled as the earth fell away into the crevice at their heels. The sound of snapping rocks ringing in the night as snow and dust blocked the light of the moon. They scrambled up the edge of the gully. Charter grabbing Evelyn’s hand as Rylen pulled Alistair up.

All four of them fell onto the snow as the dusty debris of the collapse swirled in the air. Alistair coughed from the choking dust as he stood up. Evelyn’s arm glowed in a blue halo in the dust.

She quickly grabbed the gauntlet and twisted it in a particular way. She screamed as braces ripped out of the flesh in her upper arm with a spray of blue and red blood. Charter handed her the black bag, into which Evelyn slipped the gauntlet into, the stump of her arm dripping red blood into the snow. “Alright,” Alistair breathed hard. “That arm. The Veil - you pulled it so hard you could have ripped a hole into the Fade.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Evelyn said, wincing as her face paled. As Charter sealed the black bag, Evelyn turned to her arm, her good hand flaring with a healing spell as she tried to close the wounds. She was sweating, her eyes still faintly glowing blue.

“Does that thing-” Alistair stared at her. “All that lyrium-”

“Let’s head back, your Majesty,” she said firmly. “I’m sure the Commander needs to know that there are darkspawn and creepy undead elves and dwarves in the area. He’d be so pleased to hear the news.”

Alistair frowned and looked over the gully into the settling dust. “They weren’t undead,” he said.

“Their faces were sloughing off from all the boils and sores - they didn’t even scream when we killed them,” Evelyn said.

Alistair looked at her. “Exactly. They were Tainted, Inquisitor,” his voice was grave as he spoke.

++++

Cullen was beside himself with anger. But he didn’t shout. It didn’t do to yell at your wife in public. He settled into a sullen glowwer, radiating anger as he listened to Alistair and Evelyn reporting as they sat around the fire before their tents. “We have the palisades up,” he said. “We’ll double our scouts. Word has already been sent to Soldier’s Peak. They will rendezvous with us on the Imperial Highway.”

“Good,” Evelyn said, watching him carefully. “This entrance at least is sealed. We should be fine tonight.”

Alistair was frowning furiously. “I still think what you did was bloody stupid, Inquisitor,” he snapped. “A bloody ogre and you- All by yourself - I can’t even begin to-”

“Then don’t,” Evelyn glared at him. “I did what I had to do. You said to seal it. Were you proposing we roll a rock over it before the ogre got out, your Majesty? After the tainted elves and dwarves shot and stabbed us, perhaps?”

“You used the gauntlet,” Cullen said. It wasn’t even a question. Of all the bloody reckless things to do-

“Yes,” Evelyn replied, her blue eyes hard. “I’m fine. It was only for a few moments.”

“What happens when she uses that thing?” Alistair demanded. “Other than the fact that her spells become more powerful - which is a given thanks to all the damn lyrium infused in it.”

“She’ll go mad, shine like a beacon to demons in the Fade, get tempted, possibly possessed, become an abomination and die - best case scenario,” Cullen growled.

“What?” Alistair exclaimed. “That’s a best case scenario? What’s the worst case scenario?”

“She becomes an abomination and kills us all.”

Evelyn made a disgusted noise as she held the stump of her arm, the wounds from the braces healing gently under her continued spell. “That’s only from prolonged use,” she countered. “That’s not all it does. Cullen can’t be around it.”

“Because it could kill me too,” Cullen glared at her. “That was supposed to be a weapon of absolute last resort, Evelyn.”

“Wait - why will it kill him?” Alistair asked. His eyes widened and he groaned. “Maker, don’t tell me, that’s raw lyrium, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Evelyn said gravely.

Alistair brought his hands up, his expression incredulous and uncomprehending. He summed it up in one word - “Why?!”

“Because no other form of lyrium would meld with a living being,” she said. “The only way for me to be able to move my fingers and mould the veil with the gauntlet is if it were… alive. Raw lyrium is still alive.”

“Right, because this is a fantastic idea - let’s strap raw lyrium onto my hand so I can make magic, what could possibly go wrong?” Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation and leaned back on the log he sat on. Cullen ran his hand through his hair wearily.

Evelyn stood up then, her eyes hard. “Do not presume to judge me and my actions, your Majesty,’ she said, her voice steely, her eyes glinting in the light of the fire. “If I have to rip open the veil itself to keep you safe and Thedas out of another war, I will. If anything tries to harm those I protect, there will be nowhere they can hide from my wrath.” Cold fury radiated off her as she turned and went to her tent.

Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his head splitting on top of all this madness.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair breathed softly as he shook his head. “She defeated Corypheus and once had Thedas under her heel. Now I can see why.”

Cullen simply nodded and reached for his tincture bottle. He took a long swig of it. “I don’t want her to use that thing,” he sighed as he stoppered the bottle. “I wish Dagna never made it.”

“She’s terrifying,” Alistair stared at Evelyn’s tent.

“She’s actually really nice, once you get to know her,” Cullen assured him. “The next time she goes with you, please, don’t let her use that gauntlet again.”

“You think she’ll listen to me?”

Cullen paused. “Probably not, but implore her anyway. I didn’t lose my wife to demons or ancient magisters or Qunari or blood mages, I don’t want to lose her to the folly of her own determination to protect.”

Alistair sighed. “I’ll… do what I can,” he said. “Though I pray there will never be a ‘next time’ that would ever need her to even consider the possibility.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my first foray into an older Alistair's head. How did it go? Let me know what you think so I can make sure he stays as true to his personality as possible. The last thing I want to do is do a character injustice.


	4. Words on the Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn has a secret. She can tell no one, not until a certain silly Warden King pries it out of her.

Evelyn had already undressed from her mage robes when Cullen entered the tent a while later. She looked up at him from their cot, her eyes weary. “How’s the king?” she asked as she pulled off her boots.

 

“Still a little shocked,” Cullen replied.

 

Evelyn sighed. “I should apologise for what I said,” she said with a frown. “That was stupid of me, what was I thinking talking to him like that?”

 

Cullen pulled off his fur shawl. “You should,” he said quietly. “I don’t think he’s used to the way you do things.”

 

“I saw what had to be done and I did it,” Evelyn insisted.

 

“I know that,” Cullen said. “But we’ve talked about the gauntlet before. How it’s dangerous and not to be used lightly. Lyrium would harm you more than it has me. You stand to lose your mind and your soul, or have you forgotten that?”

 

Evelyn was silent, not meeting his eyes. Had she been too hasty? She had been worried for the King, her heart was thrumming in her ears, but when she put on the gauntlet, it sang to her the sweetest song… such was the allure of lyrium. She sighed heavily. She had been too hasty. She had feared for the king and distrustful of her own magic, and so she had used the gauntlet. Foolish.

 

She looked down at her hand, a frown furrowed her brow. Three years had passed since Ostwick. Her magic was waning. She had no idea why nor had any of her research yielded any answers. She could no longer muster the will to cast for prolonged periods without the spell tearing at the edges. Her stupid trial on the bridge had nearly burned her fingers off. Was this the result of the pregnancy or the mark or... what? If word of her fading magic got out, it would jeopardize the Inquisition since she had no successor. What would happen if her magic faded? There were vultures around the Inquisition. If she failed, what would become of-

 

And then Cullen was there, taking her hand. She looked up into his eyes. They glowed in the firelight, honeyed orbs that drank in her face. She blushed and looked away, which she realized too late was a dead-giveaway that she was hiding something. Still, she was the Inquisitor. No one could know that she was weakening.

 

Cullen sighed softly as he knelt down in front of her, holding her hand in his with his fur shawl draped over the crook of his arm. “Eve,” he murmured, his voice washing over her. “Something troubles you.”

 

She bit back her fears and forced a smile as she leaned in to kiss him. “I’m fine,” she lied, her forehead resting against his. She saw the slight tightening of his eyes. She knew he didn’t believe her. She’d never tell. “May we just go to bed? I’m feeling a mite exhausted.”

 

Cullen kissed her knuckles in that way of his that made her heart flutter. She felt the heat of the blush as he looked at her. Damn him, he was too good for this world. How did he end up with a reckless fool like her? “I love you no matter what. You know that right?” he asked her quietly.

 

She swallowed the urge to tell him. “I know,” was all she said.

 

++++

 

They rode out the following morning, which dawned bright and crisp and clear as only a winter’s dawn could be. Cullen was feeling refreshed despite the events of the evening before. Evelyn rode ahead of the column on her Trevelyan Vanner, its mane fluttering in the breeze along with Evelyn’s own dawk hair. Alistair hung back with Cullen. It was not surprising. Things had been awkward between Evelyn and the King as they broke camp.

 

Cullen glanced at Alistair, watching Evelyn with a tilted head and a slightly puzzled frown. “You know, she’s probably going to be fine if you wait an hour and then tell her a stupid joke,” Cullen said to Alistair.

 

“Yeah, I know, I’m giving it time,” Alistair said.

 

“You’ll get used to it.”

 

“To what?”

 

“The shocks,” Cullen said. “You need a special sort of person to storm a keep with only four other people, after all.” He paused. “The Maker chose well.”

 

Alistair chuckled. “Don’t worry, I like Eve. I just don’t do well with surprises.”

 

“Then you might have picked the wrong travelling partner, your Majesty. At least when the Wardens meet us this evening, it will ensure that she and you have no excuse to foray into the woods again. Less shocks all round.”

 

Their column was met with a contingent of Wardens that evening as they were setting up camp. In burnished steel and blue, the Gray Wardens entered the camp and were immediately taken under Cullen’s command. The Captain of the Wardens was a surprisingly lithe dwarf who was shorter than any Cullen had ever seen. As their evening’s encampment was being set up with palisades at the shore of the lake, Cullen brought the Captain of the Gray to Evelyn and Alistair at their campfire. They had settled into a civil peace. Which was good. Cullen couldn’t handle any more wrangling between the two of them.

 

“Inquisitor, your Majesty,” he said. “This is Ankel Savorn, Captain of the Gray.”

 

The dwarf bowed, his elegantly long black beard almost touching the ground. “Inquisitor,” he greeted. “An honour to serve.”

 

“Captain,” Evelyn smiled as she sat perched on a log by the fire. “It is good to have you with us. Did you encounter any Darkspawn on your way?”

 

“No, Inquisitor, it’s been disappointingly quiet,” Ankel sighed.

 

“Ankel,” Alistair mused.

 

“Yes, that’s my name.” Ankel grinned. “They also call me Biter.”

 

“Why?” Alistair paused and groaned. “No, don’t say it. Forget I asked.”

 

Ankel laughed. “Don’t worry, Majesty. It gets tiring teaching people not to make fun of my name - especially after the first dozen bodies. I got it out of my system.”

 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen chided even as Alistair burst into laughter. “That will do, Captain.”

 

“Sorry, Commander, just a joke,” Ankel said, scratching his beard.

 

“See to your men and then approach Captain Rylen to coordinate scouts tonight. I want no surprises. Dismissed.”

 

“Ser!” Ankel saluted and turned to leave.

 

Cullen watched the man go.

 

Alistair was laughing into his hand.

 

“What’s the joke?” Evelyn asked as Cullen settled down beside her.

 

Alistair cleared his throat and looked at her. “Ankle… biter. Er. He’s small.”

 

Evelyn stared at him. “Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “I think I get it.”

 

Alistair cleared his throat again as awkwardness bloomed between them . “Er, anyway, I’m going to check on my horse. I think it’s got some burrs in its tail.” Alistair made a quick exit.

 

Cullen glanced at Evelyn. “I take it things between you and the king are moving along amicably?” he asked.

 

“What?” Evelyn blinked. “Oh, of course.” She poked at the fire with a stick. The wood crackled. That was odd. She often used her own glyphs for the flame, since she hated the smell of burnt wood in her hair.

 

Cullen could sense her preoccupation. “Everything alright?” he asked.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Evelyn smiled brightly at him. “Just because I didn’t get the king’s joke it means I’m not alright?”

 

“No, I don’t get his jokes either. He has a warped sense of humour. But that’s not the point. You’re… distracted.”

 

“I have my mind on this peace deputation,” she sighed, looking away and blushing slightly, the way she always did when she told him a flat out lie.

 

Cullen frowned, wishing she would just… be open with him. What was she hiding? He took her hand and pulled the stick away. He wanted to kiss her, but was keenly aware that there were troops about, guarding the tents. He squeezed her hand instead. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me then,” he said simply. “I’ll wait.”

 

“Oh Cullen,” she sighed, frustration tightening her voice. “It’s nothing. Stop acting like something is wrong when it isn’t. You’re such a pain, sometimes.”

 

Cullen’s jaw tensed as he bit back the sting of her words. Did she think he were stupid? That he couldn’t see something was troubling her? He let go of her hand and poked at the fire. The wood crackled and popped in the flames, like the atmosphere between them as they stared at the flames for a moment.

 

He felt Evelyn’s hand slip somewhat tentatively into his. She looked up at him with apologetic eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder, her face against his pauldron. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

 

He sighed and squeezed her hand in response.

 

“Everything is fine,” she assured him again, not meeting his eyes.

 

“Yes,” he simply said. “Don’t lean on the pauldron, the oil will damage your skin.”

 

She giggled and moved closer to nuzzle her face in his furs. “Evie,” he blushed. “There are people about-”

 

“I don’t care about that,” she said, nestled against his fur. “Or about the oils. It smells of you.”

 

Cullen could feel the soldiers eyes on them. First snigger and the man was dead, he promised, but put his arm around Evelyn’s waist regardless, holding her close.

 

++++

 

“Recruit! Move those legs! My grandmother can run faster than you, Maker bless her soul,” Cullen snapped in the darkness. Evelyn’s eyes bolted open, startled from sleep. In the darkness of her tent, she heard Cullen stirring next to her. “Rylen I thought I told you…” His words faded off into a snore.

 

Evelyn sighed and sat up, her hair a tousled mess around her head. Cullen was sleeping on his back. No wonder. He always snored when he did that. She smiled. He trained recruits even in his sleep. There was a man who couldn’t put work down, and she knew it. Evelyn looked at that face, that chiseled jaw, that halo of strawberry blonde hair that she loved to run her hand through, that slightly bent nose she loved to kiss, that scar she loved to lick… those eyes that reached into her and turned any switch they wanted…

 

Cullen snorted. Evelyn sighed. Even a face like that sounded like a nug in heat sometimes, she supposed. She tried to turn him onto his side, slipping her hand under his shoulder. The whole cot shook. “Maker’s breath, Evie, why won’t you just talk to me...” Cullen mumbled. Evelyn blinked and stared at him, fearing he was awake.

 

Another snore shook the tent. Evelyn frowned and swung her legs off the bed. She wasn’t going to get any sleep at this rate. And his damn talking in his sleep only served to remind her of her worries.

 

She pulled her boots on and slipped her vest on over her shirt. Then, taking her cloak, she stepped out of the tent.

 

It was snowing outside. Evelyn swore, hating the winter. She bit her glove and pulled it on as she let the tent flap drop behind her. “Inquisitor?” the guard by the tent saluted.

 

“At ease, soldier,” she said, wiggling her fingers in the glove. She started to walk away until she noticed the guard moving to follow her.

 

“I’m just going for a walk,” she said. “Stay and guard the tent. Make sure the Commander doesn’t snore it down by the time I get back.”

 

“Er-” The soldier began. He was going to say that he was under Commander’s orders, that’s for sure. Evelyn cut him off. “That’s an order,” she said, her voice crisp with command. The soldier saluted again and stood rigid at his post.

 

She strode off.

 

She walked through the tents, acknowledging salutes of the soldiers who passed her, and eventually got to the gates. “Captain,” she greeted, seeing Rylen leaning against the gate.

 

“Inquisitor,” Rylen blinked, standing straight to salute. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Nothing, any report of hostile forces in the vicinity?”

 

“None, Inquisitor. All quiet, tonight.”

 

“Good,” she smiled and walked past him out the gate.

 

“Shall I summon an escort?”

 

“No need,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I’m just going for a walk. No need to mention this.” She paused. “To anyone.”

 

Rylen said nothing and saluted.

 

Evelyn went off into the woods, the  breeze tugging at her cloak as she walked. She could see the darkness of the lake through the trees and walked towards it. As long as she kept to the shore of Lake Calenhad, she was fine. Overhead, she heard the dry scraping of the barren winter trees, the wind whispering in her ears and running icy fingers through her hair. Her boots crunched in the snow, snapping dry grass as she walked to the lake’s edge. It took her a while, but eventually, her footsteps brought her away from the camp and out of sight. It was cold, quiet, lonely. She pulled her cloak around her as she shut her eyes, taking a moment of quiet for herself.

 

Should she tell him? Were her fears even founded? Maybe this was all normal? She had no idea. There were no other mages in the Inquisition that she could trust to talk about this with. She looked down at her hand and popped a sparkle of ice in the air. Ice was easy - there was so much cold about. She just had to channel it. Now fire, fire was harder.

 

A gust of wind from across the lake made her shiver, the waters rippling under the moonlight. She winced in the cold and looked out over the waters, moonlight reflecting off the wind-swept waters like a school of dancing silver fish.

 

No, back to the matter at hand. She pushed her cloak off her shoulders and summoned her mana, her hand sparking with lightning. She shut her eyes, only the sound of the wind whispering in her ears and her will roaring in her mind - the bolt came down from the sky, searing the water. She opened her eyes and stretched out her hand, firing lightning over the lake. It sparked over the waters. She pushed the spell, stretching it, firing it, her will unrelenting. She recalled Keili, about to tear Cullen apart in her den.

 

The lightning flared in her hand as the memory tore at her heart. Cullen bleeding everywhere, scarred in mind and spirit and body. She couldn’t bear the thought of it - of what he had to do to kill Keili. She couldn’t bear to think of it, yet her spell flared even brighter, burning with power. This could not be where her magic came from! She tore her mind from the memory and felt the power in her hand begin to wildly fluctuate.

 

She cried out as the spell burst in her hand, throwing her off balance as she fell backwards. She grunted, warm hands catching her shoulders before she fell. She breathed hard, her arm hurt, tingling and spasming from the shock as she leaned against the man holding her.

 

“I thought you were asleep,” she muttered, looking down at her hand.

 

“It’s a bit hard with Cullen snoring away.”

 

Evelyn gasped. She stepped away hurriedly, blushing to the roots of her hair. Alistair folded his arms as he looked at her. He was donned in a simple tunic and leather vest, his cloak pulled in the wind, revealing the sword at his belt. “Did I startle you?”

 

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I mean - no!”

 

“Right, that makes loads of sense,” Alistair smiled wryly.

 

Evelyn sighed. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I don’t know. I was a bit hungry - I thought you were on your way to the mess so I followed you.” Alistair folded his arms and leaned against a tree.

 

Evelyn stared at him.

 

“Not convinced?”

 

“No, can’t say that I am.”

 

Alistair sighed. “I’m the only one besides Cullen who you can’t command to stay in camp while you head out alone into the woods, maybe? Also, I honestly was hungry, so I woke up.”

 

She sighed heavily. All she wanted was a moment alone. “We should head back,” she said.

 

“No need, you can finish your training. I can wait.”

 

“You don’t have to,” she began.

 

“You do, though,” he interrupted. “Does that happen often?”

 

She looked sharply at him. “Does what?”

 

“Your spell backfiring,” Alistair replied.

 

Her glare rivaled the frost around them. “It’s nothing-”

 

“Please, Inquisitor, I’ve been married to a mage for ten years. I know enough to see when a spell tears apart.”

 

Damn. That was true, she supposed. Not that the King would lie to her. “It doesn’t happen often,” she replied. “I can usually hold them. But they’re not as powerful as they used to be. It’s just gotten worse over the past couple of years.”

 

She felt a weight off her shoulders just saying it.

 

“Have you sought any help?” Alistair asked.

 

“And let the world know the Inquisitor who sealed the Breach can’t cast?”

 

“You’re not just the Inquisitor,” Alistair said. “You’re a person too. You’re allowed to have problems, you know.”

 

“Not the sort that jeopardizes the Inquisition,” she retorted.

 

“I think you not functioning is jeopardizing the Inquisition, don’t you?” Alistair looked at her with that puppy dog expression only he was so good at.

 

She chuckled then. “You’re right, of course,” she replied. “I really… I really should talk to someone.”

 

He walked up to her and stood next to her as they looked out over the lake. “You can talk to Sol,” he said. He paused. “If we find her.”

 

Evelyn saw the subtle sadness in his eyes. She touched Alistair’s arm, a compassionate smile on her face. “We will,” she assured him. “And we’ll stop a war as well. We’re going to be very busy.”

 

Alistair returned her smile appreciatively. “You ought to meditate,” he suggested.

 

Evelyn laughed. “Maker, I haven’t done that in years.”

 

“Sol says it helps her. Maybe it might help you too.”

 

“I’ll give it a try,” she promised.

 

They watched the water for a moment longer. Finally, Alistair spoke. “About last night…”

 

There it was. Evelyn looked up at him. “I should apologize,” she said quickly. “I was too hasty with my words, and my actions. As always.”

 

“I was going to apologize for the same thing,” Alistair smiled. “I don’t think well, as that damn Morrigan so enjoys pointing out.”

 

“Me neither,” Evelyn laughed a little sheepishly. “I tend to rush in and think later. Sometimes too late. I do it in everything - fighting, talking, flirting-” She giggled at the memory that bubbled to the surface in her mind.

 

“What?” Alistair asked curiously.

 

“Nothing,” she smiled.

 

“Why are you laughing?”

 

“It’s… just a silly memory.”

 

“I have to know what it is now.”

 

She blushed rosily. “I was just remembering the first time I actually tried flirting with Cullen - intentionally, anyway.”

 

“This I have to hear!”

 

She laughed. “I was so bad at it. I felt like an idiot village girl. I couldn’t speak properly, like my tongue was a whale in my mouth or something. I said I was glad that he made it out of Haven, or something like that.”

 

“How did it go?”

 

“Horrible. He didn’t say anything to me at first.”

 

“And then?”

 

“Then it was… so awkward. I tried to run, of course. But he pulled me back.”

 

“And he kissed you passionately, no doubt.”

 

“No.” Evelyn grinned. “He promised me Haven would not happen again. And I wasn’t even sure if we were on the same page or if he were interested at all.”

 

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair sighed. “Cullen! That’s odd, though. Back when we were recruits, he used to get the attention of all the female recrui-” Alistair stared at her. “I should probably not tell you this story.”

 

“No! Tell me!”

 

“He’ll kill me!”

 

“I’ll command him not to. Now tell me!”

 

Alistair made a rueful face. “Fine!” he sighed as the wind swept up the snow around them. “But you practice your magic while I tell you. I’ll stand back here where it’s, you know, safe.”

 

“As your Majesty wishes,” Evelyn bowed grandly.

 

“Stop that!”

 

“Ooh, so commanding,” Evelyn teased as she turned back to the water to fire her spells as Alistair began his tale.

 

It was several hours later when they arrived back at camp. Alistair’s silly stories had calmed her, and her casting was sustainable for long periods, though not as the power she used to command. They bade each other a friendly good night and went to their own tents. She was humming quietly as she entered her tent, feeling better than she had in days. Cullen was on his side, no longer snoring, thank the Maker. She took off her cloak and vest and sat on the cot to pull off her boots.

 

“Where have you been?” Cullen asked blearily in sleep.

 

She giggled to herself, remembering the tales that Alistair had spun. “I just went for a walk,” she said, leaning over to kiss Cullen’s cheek. She then straightened up and pulled off her glove with her teeth. “Go back to sleep. You were nearly done scolding Rylen in your dreams.”

 

Cullen was silent. He must be dead asleep. He pushed himself so hard. She lay down beside him and snaked her arm under his to embrace him. With her mind at peace, Evelyn went to sleep. She did not see Cullen looking ahead into the darkness.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's build up the drama here. Let me know what you think - if it sucks, if it's good. All feedback is good feedback if constructive!


	5. Gossamer Threads and Vocabulary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics, lies, mysteries and jewels are all the fashion in Orzammar.

They arrived at Gherlen’s Pass by the afternoon of the following day. Trade had made the Pass an unofficial highway, paved with stones set by the dwarves. Alistair couldn’t help but admire the workmanship of the paving stones. He wondered if he had any funds in the treasury to re-pave some of the streets in Denerim. Along the sides street, pressing up against the steep slopes of the valley, merchants had set up their shop to form what seemed like a temporary city of tents and wagons. Merchants touted and hawked their wares, though even they had the decency to stop their clamour as the King and the Inquisitor rode up. Alistair could feel the eyes on him and the whispers that followed their passing as he rode with Evelyn at the head of the column of Inquisition, Ferelden and Gray Warden forces. They were imposing, to say the least. The crowd of merchants on the road stepped aside for them.

 

“I hope your ambassadors arrived with warning for the dwarves,” Alistair murmured to Evelyn beside him. Alistair was donned in his royal armour, all glinting in the winter sun. It was bloody cold, too. He felt like a ice box. On his back  his sword and shield draped with bear fur. Upon his head, causing him a slight headache, the crown of Fereldan.  

 

“They did,” Evelyn replied. “I got word by bird this morning. King Bhelen is expecting us.”

 

“Good. I would hate for them to think we were invading, marching up with three hundred of our finest soldiers. People might get the wrong idea.”

 

“We wouldn’t want that,” Evelyn chuckled. She eyed the dwarven guards who marched up to meet them, their steps and the clinking of their plate armour echoing in the valley. Alistair reigned in as the column of dwarves stopped before them. In deference to the fact that Alistair was King and Evelyn was Inquisitor, they set their battle axes pommel down on the ground and saluted. Their discipline was impeccable. Alistair was impressed.

 

A dwarf at the head of the column approached them and saluted. His armour glinted, as did his axe edge, Alistair noted. “Atrast vala, King Alistair, Inquisitor Trevelyan,” the dwarf greeted formally. “I am General Georig Gavorn. I have been sent to welcome you on behalf of King Bhelen. He is awaiting you in the Throne Room.”

 

“We thank you, General Gavorn,” Alistair said formally. “Prithee, convey us to your king so that we may greet him as is proper.”

 

Gavorn saluted crisply. “It shall be as you command, King Alistair.”

 

The dwarved formed up alongside the column and Gavorn led the march to the open gates of Orzammar. Alistair caught Evelyn glancing at him. “What?” Alistair asked.

 

“Prithee?” she smiled playfully. “Your Majesty is full of surprises.”

 

“What? I can read, you know. And Teagan spent six months teaching me that word,” Alistair shrugged.

 

Evelyn laughed to herself, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

Alistair glanced over his shoulder at Cullen, the man seemed to be down with another one of those headaches. He’d been quiet all morning. “That’s incredible,” Evelyn breathed. The gates of Orzammar were thrown open, a maw yawning out unto the world. Alistair thought it looked like a hungry mouth, which it sort of was. It consumed. As King, Alistair had pretended to sleep through a lot of financial meetings, but he knew enough to realize that Orzammar was the apex of a wide web of trade throughout Thedas. Gossamer threads of money and goods whether real, promised or owed stretched out from the gates of Orzammar. Should those gates shut, the ramifications would be huge.

 

Evelyn wasn’t gaping too obviously as she looked up at the huge doors. Alistair had always wondered why short people had huge doors. Was it compensation for something?

 

The gates were clear for their column to march through. In fact, it seemed as if the streets themselves were cordoned off by burly dwarves and made free for Alistair and his column to pass. Alistair felt like he was in a parade. Do not wave. You’re a dignitary, here, he told himself.

The city of Orzammar was lit with the glow of magma flowing through the lower reaches of the city. It was warm at last, which was a blessing. The light reflected off the red stone of the cavern’s massive ceiling, glittering off the statues of the Paragons that were carved into the very stone of the cavern’s walls itself. Rising from the lava on a column, were the Proving Grounds, which Alistair had never been to. Some dwarves gawked at them, murmuring and pointing at the horses and the men and women that rode them. Alistair felt like a giant looking down on the unmounted dwarves.

 

“That’s a lot of leg,” he heard from a dwarf as Evelyn rode past. Alistair glanced the dwarf, who was swaying and red in the face. He elbowed his friend. “I’d like to see how high they rise, if you know, what I-“

 

Georig stepped out of line and strode to the drunk. His gauntlet-clad fist smashed into the dwarf’s jaw. The dwarf spun and landed in a heap, unconscious.

 

“Thank you, Georig,” Evelyn murmured.

 

“Forgive us for the rudeness, Lady Inquisitor,” he said.

 

“No harm done, General,” she unleashed the full allure of her bright smile at the General. Georig saluted. Alistair wondered if that were a blush under that bustling beard. They rode on through the gate to the Diamond Quarter from the Commons. A wide boulevard of black stone that sparkled like diamonds led them up a winding path along the walls of the cavern and through another huge gate. Evelyn gasped softly as she saw the gate doors. “Sweet Maker,” she breathed. “Is that-“

 

“Diamond,” Alistair said. “Real, pure diamond.”

 

“Oooh,” Evelyn cooed quietly as they rode through the gate. “I wonder if Skyhol-“

 

“No, love,” Cullen murmured.

 

Evelyn sighed sadly.

 

The Diamond Quarter was another huge cavern, lit with magma flowing from the walls into pools. Lights of houses hung from the walls of the wall of the cavern like swallows nests. The Nobles built on top of each other in a typically arrogant manner. But rising above it all, reaching up almost to the ceiling of the cavern, was the palace. That one Alistair remembered well, when Solana had first met Bhelen. “My lord,” said Georig to Alistair. “We will dismount here. King Bhelen awaits us.”

 

Alistair dismounted and handed the reigns to some waiting grooms. Evelyn stepped beside him. “The Commander will come with us,” Evelyn said calmly to Georig. “He is my attache.”

 

Alistair detected only the slightest bit of surprise from Cullen’s eyes as he too dismounted. Well, if Cullen wasn’t her attache before, he was now.

 

They were escorted into the palace, Georig leading them respectfully. The deshyrs watched them, some with intrigue in their eyes, while others all but scoffed at them. Alistair dealt with it by not dealing with it. No one could play dumb like him, a useful trait when it needed to be.

 

Much to Alistair’s surprise, the doors to the throne room were open as well. He could see Bhelen seated upon his great throne within, flanked by growing stone braziers and bathed in the pale glow of those lyrium dust crystals they used to illuminate their rooms. Bhelen was watching him, a heavy double-headed axe leaning against the back of his throne. Times must be hard as king, if one needed an axe by your side. There were nobles within the throne room as well, something Alistair had grown to expect. They hung about like flies, really, watching and commenting on things that was no concern of theirs. Alistair had hated them at the start of his reign. Everything he did was commented upon in hushed whispers. Ten years on and he’d learned to ignore it.

 

A guard stepped in front of Georig at the door to the throne room. Georig took off his weapon and handed it to the guard. The guard then looked expectantly at Alistair. Alistair reached to unbuckle his sword.

 

“No need,” said Bhelen from the throne. “We will meet as equals.” The guard saluted and stepped aside to let Alistair, Evelyn and Cullen enter.

 

At the throne, Evelyn and Cullen bowed to Bhelen. Alistair did not. Both of them exchanged polite nods. Alistair was happy to know he had learned some manners, at least.

 

“Atrast valla, King Alistair,” Bhelen greeted.

 

“Greetings, King Bhelen, and thank you for meeting us. News of the declaration was most disconcerting. I am happy we can speak to come to an accord,” Alistair said plainly. If he knew Bhelen well enough, flowery speech would get him nowhere.

 

“Truly,” Bhelen replied. “We do not want a war, but we will do what we must, King Alistair. The actions taken by the Queen of Fereldan will need to be discussed.”

 

“It must have been, for you to declare war upon Fereldan because of it,” Alistair replied, feeling slightly annoyed by all the mystery. He paused. “I just wish I knew what it was,” he added a little tersely.

 

“King Bhelen,” Evelyn stepped in, bowing as she spoke. “The Inquisition extends its greetings to our dwarven allies. It is a pity that we took so long to finally meet face to face.”

 

“Inquisitor,” Bhelen smiled, turning to Evelyn. “It’s a pleasure indeed. Your exploits have been quite the topic of song for a while now. Though none of them do your beauty justice.”

 

“My king honours me with lavish praise,” she beamed at him.

 

“Lavish but honest, my lady!” Bhelen laughed. “It is an honour to have you here to meditate at our talks. How do you find Orzammar?”

 

“I am a plain-spoken woman, King Bhelen, and I fear that my words cannot do these hallowed halls justice. I am happy that under your rule, all may partake of Orzammar’s magnificence.”

 

Bhelen looked pleased. Alistair, however, was impressed. For someone so impulsive and brash, Evelyn has quite the tongue for politics. He regretted that mental image immediately. Some things were too provocative to think about. Bhelen turned his attention to Cullen. “And this must be the esteemed Commander of the Inquisition.”

 

Cullen bowed. “Your Majesty,” Cullen said simply.

 

“Hah! A man of few words indeed. I hear your exploits for the Inquisition are also fascinating, your aid to Kal Sharok has made the Inquisition a friend to all dwarves. But I’m afraid we must continue our pleasantries later, friends,” Bhelen said warmly. “We have a banquet planned for you tonight. Till then, my steward will show you to your quarters.”

 

A quiet old dwarf approached them, his braided beard as white as winter made him look particularly distinguished. He led them out of the throne room. Alistair heard the rising sound of conversation from among the nobles within as they left.

 

“Well, that was-” Alistair began.

 

“We’ll talk later, Majesty,” Evelym smiled at him. “You need your rest. I notice you get quite impatient when you’re tired, and you didn’t sleep well last night.”

 

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Right, I absolutely didn’t,” he said. “Was I testy?”

 

“A mite testy, yes,” Evelyn laughed.

 

The steward stopped in front of a room. “Majesty,” he said to Alistair. “This is your room. The Inquisitor and the Commander will stay across the hallway.” He held the door for Alistair.

 

“We’ll talk later,” Alistair said to Evelyn as Cullen scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And take your medicine, Commander.”

 

Cullen grunted as Alistair shut the door behind him.

 

++++

 

Evelyn was impressed by their room. It was lavishly decorated, including a burly guard outside their door. There was even a window. She went to it immediately and looked out. She could see the whole Diamond Quarter and the flow of magma below. She cooed appreciatively. Finally, they were not in the public eye - she could finally gawk.

 

“Did you see the magma flows?” Evelyn asked excitedly.

 

Cullen grunted, pulling his fur shawl off and sitting down on the bed. He leaned back on his hands and looked at her.

 

She pouted slightly, sad that he wasn’t well enough to enjoy it with her.

 

He must have noticed her disappointment because he stood up with a slight roll of his eyes and went to join her at the window. He put his arm around her from behind as they looked out together. “It’s pretty,” he said.

 

“Pretty?” Evelyn exclaimed. “It’s bloody amazing! Andraste’s ass, this is the warmest I’ve been all winter!” She took his other arm and wrapped it around her as well. “Okay, now it’s the warmest I’ve been all winter.”

 

He laughed. “Maker’s mercy, it’s like talking to a little girl, sometimes.”

 

“You’re so grumpy today,” she said. “I have to liven things up.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder and reached up to run her hand through his hair. He winced with a smile as she accidentally poked him in the eye. “Sorry,” she laughed and turned around in his arms. “Bhelen is subtle as sin, isn’t he?”

 

“You go from poking me in the eye to politics in a single breath?” Cullen asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.

 

Evelyn felt it then, the subtle feeling that they were being watched. “You know Eduard told me that he found a rather industrious mute man in Ostwick,” she said conversationally, putting her arms over his shoulders.

 

“Really?”

 

“The man looks totally gormless and can’t speak. He’s got very good eyes, however, and an even better memory,” she said, drawing him in for a kiss. He looked slightly puzzled but kissed her anyway. Her tongue slipped between his lips as they deepened the kiss. She liked the feel of his tongue - he was so forceful when he got engrossed in a kiss as he was now. She gasped slightly as he tightened his grasp on her, bringing their bodies against each others. “Wait, I had a point,” she muttered against his lips.

 

“Why are you talking?” His breath was hot against her lips and he kissed her again, his tongue parting her lips.

 

She sucked on his tongue, a moan escaping her. Point! “The point is-” she pulled away only to have him tug gently on her lower lip with his teeth. She felt his hands on her bottom. “The point is-” she breathed when he moved to kiss her neck, “-that we’re being watched.”

 

“What?” he exclaimed and pulled back but she put her hands on his face to pull him into another kiss. “They gave us a window so they can watch us,” she breathed against his lips.

 

“And they can read lips?” Cullen whispered back, his eyes darted over her head and out the window.

 

“Maybe,” she smiled, leaning into him and tiptoeing slightly.

 

“You must be joking,” Cullen said, and gasped a little when she lightly bit his earlobe.

 

She giggled. Then she gasped as he put his hand on her back and lifted her away from the window. Her legs wrapped around his waist immediately as he leaned against the wall away from the window. “Problem solved,” he said.

 

“Does that mean we have to stop?” she asked and licked his scar lightly. She blew on it a little as he quivered in her arms.

 

“No,” he replied, smirking slightly. “This makes discussing politics a little more exciting.”

 

She chuckled, their foreheads pressed together. She turned his head as he held her off the ground, her tongue tracing the fine ridges of his ear as she whispered, “Bhelen put us here to keep us apart. He doesn’t want us talking to each other, not without him knowing all about it. We’re also being watched. I can feel it.”

 

He only moaned in reply, trying to turn his head to her but she held his chin firmly. She chuckled slightly, fully focused on the moment. “We need to go to the Shaperate-” she murmured and stopped when the door opened.

 

“Oh Maker!” Alistair exclaimed and turned his back as Evelyn squeaked in surprise, dropping to the ground.

 

“What?” Cullen snapped, his face like thunder.

 

“W-would your Majesty like to come in?” she asked Alistair, feeling her whole face burning with the blush that rose right from her belly.

 

“I don’t know, should I?”

 

“J-just shut the door, your Majesty,” Evelyn said in a honeyed voice.

 

Alistair shut the door but didn’t turn around.

 

“Why are you here?” Cullen demanded. “And why don’t you knock?”

 

“I did knock!” Alistair retorted, turning to speak to them.

 

“We didn’t hear anything!”

 

“Maybe because you had something in your ear that Evie was helping you find?” Alistair asked mildly.

 

“Evie?” Cullen blinked.

 

“Evelyn, slip of the tongue,” Alistair folded his arms, his cheeks mottling a little.

 

Evelyn realized the two men were glaring at each other. “Oh, Maker’s mercy, stop it, you both!” she snapped. “It’s nothing, alright? Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.” Knowing Alistair, it probably was just a slip of the tongue. But Cullen was the jealous sort, and Evelyn knew it. “Alistair,” she said seriously. “I was - just telling Cullen that we should go into the city.” Damn this blush, she put her hand over her flaming cheek and rubbed it, willing the blush to go away.

 

“I was going to suggest that as well,” Alistair said, avoiding Cullen’s eyes. “I thought we could all go for a nice… walk around Orzammar.”

 

“Not you,” Evelyn said.

 

“What? Why?” Alistair asked.

 

“You’re the King?”

 

“King’s need to walk.”

 

“You’re too important right now, Alistair,” she sighed. “Cullen and I do have a bit more freedom. If you go nosing about, people will ask questions. I can still-” She paused, glancing at the window. She coughed and covered her mouth. “I can still feign ignorance,” she continued, her hand over her mouth. “Just wander in and look stupid and find out what I can about Solona.”

 

Alistair looked slightly sullen. “That’s true,” he said. “That’s what Sol and I did the last time we were here.”

 

“We’ll head out then,” Evelyn said, her hand over her mouth. “I want to buy some dwarven accessories, it would make more sense to be with my husband than the king.”

 

Alistair glanced at Cullen. “That’s true,” he said. “I’ll head back to my room then.” He turned to go.

 

“Alistair,” Cullen said. Alistair stopped and turned. “Do you need anything? From the city, I mean.”

 

Alistair chuckled. “Nope, just for you to get well soon, Commander,” he replied and left.

 

Evelyn glared at Cullen. If she even insinuated the fact that he was jealous, he would lose his temper, she knew. How on earth was she supposed to… She sighed and found herself folding her arms, looking away from Cullen in disapproval.

  

“Yes, I know, I should not have snapped at him,” Cullen said, reaching for his shawl. He pulled it on over his pauldrons. “Are we shopping or what?”

 

Evelyn sighed and went to him. She kissed him gently. “I love you, and only you, you know that, right?” she asked him, her hand on his cheek.

 

His eyes softened, but he still looked troubled. “I know,” he said, kissing her nose. “Let’s go.”

 

+++++

 

Evelyn liked jewels. They sparkled as the merchant in the Diamond Quarters showed them to her. Apparently, merchants in the Diamond Quarters were a rarity, she had heard from the boisterous merchant who was showing her dwarven crafted jewelry upon black velvet. Cullen was already distracted by the swords on display. She picked out a set of sapphire earrings and necklace and paid for them. Cullen had picked up a sword of steel with a burnished lion head on the hand guard. She eyed him holding the sword, admiring the craftsmanship of the weapon.

 

“You like it?” Evelyn asked, smiling up at him.

 

“It’s nice,” he said, smiling. “But it’s unnecessary.”

 

“I think it would be nice for ceremonies,” she beamed at him. “Like in the future, when Sam graduates where ever he happens to study, or his wedding, or our wedding.”

 

“Our wedding?” he asked. “We already had one.”

 

“I was thinking that we should have a big one when Sam is older,” she grinned at him. “It would be magnificent. Grand masked balls, dancing, rubbing shoulders with kings and empresses.”

 

“Maker’s breath, that’s not my idea of a good time.” He set the sword down.

 

“I’ll take it!” Evelyn nudged him aside.

 

“Oh! The Inquisitor has a good eye!” the merchant said happily, taking the sword and wrapping it in velvet cloth.

 

“Why?” Cullen said.

 

“I want to give it to a stubborn grumpy man I know,” she laughed, nudging him with her hip. Then she leaned in to whisper to him. “Or maybe I get a fondle it and think of you.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” he laughed. “You… are impossible…”

 

She carried her purchases to Rylen, who was following them with an extremely bored expression on his face. “Thank you Rylen!” she beamed up at Rylen, holding out sword and jewelry.

 

“You don’t pay me enough for this, Commander,” Rylen glared at Cullen.

 

“This is not the time to talk about that” Cullen retorted awkwardly.

 

“Just help me carry it please,” Evelyn’s eyes were wide as she looked up at Rylen. Rylen’s eyebrow twitched in the full glow of Evelyn’s endearing eyes and slight pleading pout.

 

Rylen lasted for about half a minute before he made a disgusted noise and took the items from her.

 

“Hah!” Cullen gloated with his arms crossed.

 

“What?” Evelyn asked.

 

“Nothing, it’s guy talk,” Cullen smirked and held out a palm to Rylen. “No one says no to the Inquisitor.” He waggled his fingers expectantly. Rylen handed over three sovreigns.

 

Evelyn helped herself to one of the golden coins. “My commission,” she beamed.

 

“Fair enough,” Cullen said, pocketing the rest of the coins as Rylen scowled, carrying the shopping as he followed them. Technically he was their guard, but Evelyn couldn’t help but rile up Rylen. She headed to the Shaperate, idly looking at things on display in the Diamond Quarters market. She had to resist spending all her stipend on dwarvish things. Pity they didn’t make any magical items. Perhaps she should pick up some runes later.

 

“You make bets?” Evelyn asked Cullen conversationally.

 

“Rylen said he could never be turned by that look,” Cullen chuckled.

 

“What look?”

 

“That look you pull when you want something.”

 

Evelyn laughed. “Stop giving away my secrets!” she said and stopped in front of the Shaperate doors. They were barred with a guard standing before it. The dwarf was helmetted and when he turned to look at Evelyn, it reminded her of a moving rivet. “What building is thi-” she began.

 

“Welcome, Inquisitor,” said the guard. “The Shaperate bids you welcome. We have been expecting you.”

 

“Really?” Evelyn asked, swearing inwardly. So much for playing the innocent fool and asking deceptively benign questions. “I’m surprised.”

 

The dwarf unbarred the door and pushed it open. Evelyn could sense the people staring at them as the Shaperate doors swung open with the heavy and ominous creak of metal. “The Shaper of Memories awaits you within,” said the dwarf.

 

“Of course,” she said, pulling herself together. If they wanted to play formal, she could play formal. “Wait here, Captain Rylen.”

 

Evelyn and Cullen stepped into the Shaperate. Tall shelves of stone rose from floor to dusty ceiling, bearing scrolls, books, slates and crystals. Evelyn could feel the weight of the knoeledge here, pressing down on her here, as she stood in the presence of thousands of years of history bound together in this one place. The hallways were lit with the blue glow of lyrium, since clearly flames here were not an option. They stood in the hallway as the Shaperate door closed behind them.

 

They glanced at each other as they waited. “I thought we were expected,” Evelyn murmured.

 

There was the sound of footsteps in the dimly lit hallway before them. A dwarf approached them. He was taller than most dwarves. His black hair was slicked back and instead of a bushy beard, he had a finely trimmed goatee. He also wore a pair of thin gold-rimmed glasses. He donned the robes of a scribe, his fingerless gloves stained with ink. He was unlike any dwarf they had seen thus far. “Inquisitor,” said the dwarf, his voice crisp. “Commander, welcome to the Shaperate. It is rare to have a fugacious moment of leisure to speak with guests of such distinguished personages.”

 

Cullen blinked. “Truly,” Evelyn beamed. “I was not expecting to be… expected in the Shaperate, er…”

 

“Shaper Dunharg, Inquisitor,” said the shaper, adjusting the glasses on his nose. “One should not have been surprised as it Orzammar now is far more invested in sempiternal affairs than before.”

 

“And yet here we are, bound in an imbroglio of uncertain nature, labyrinthine in it’s essence, that would tear Orzammar and Ferelden apart. Yet some approach it with regretful insouciance.” Evelyn sighed. “Mayhaps you would be able to shed some light on this woebegone situation with the Queen of Ferelden?”

 

“My lady’s propinquity for refined speech does her great credit!” Dunharg beamed, beckoning them to follow him.

 

“What just happened?” Cullen murmured to Evelyn.

 

“I just asked him to tell us about the situation with the Queen,” Evelyn murmured.

 

“Is that what you said?” he asked, confused.

 

Evelyn smiled impishly up at him.

 

“The Queen of Ferelden is what we were bid to speak with you about, my lady,” said Dunharg, leading them down the hallway towards a staircase that spiralled down into the rock.

 

“Were you now?” Evelyn said.

 

“King Bhelen commanded it of us, we are to hide nothing about the situation from the Inquisitor.”

 

“Pray tell, good Shaper,” she said as they followed him.

 

“Up until a month ago, we were in possession of a near panoply of ancient maps of the known Deep Roads - tablets, ancient carvings, manuscripts, even palimsests that were recovered under newer memories - all stored within our vault under the Shaperate.”

 

“Such a collection would be extremely valuable,” Evelyn murmured. She noticed Cullen’s eyes sort of glazed over when Dunharg spoke.

 

“However…” Dunharg stopped at the foot of the stairs. Evelyn gasped at the sight before her. What must have been two massive, solid metal doors were torn open, their edges melted as if by flame. Within, the room was in shambles, shelves were turned over and the floor was strewn with paper and broken bits of tablets were strewn on the floor. Shapers were inside, gathering and organizing the mess with quiet and systematic fervour, hoping to restore the vault. Beside the broken door were two heavy guards, eyeing them with axes in their hands.

 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen breathed.

 

“What was taken?” Evelyn asked, dropping the vocabulary.

 

“Maps, Inquisitor,” Dunharg replied. “Maps. Maps to ancient thaigs, these are our military secrets and the Queen stole them.”

 

“How do you know it was her?”

 

“She left survivors, they identified her as the one who walked away with the maps. The dwarves in question have impeccable honour. They would not lie.”

 

Cullen had stepped forward to the doors. The two guards tightened their grip on their axes, raising them slightly. “He merely seeks to determine the wherewithall by which the Queen gained entry,” Evelyn said quickly. “Let him pass.”

 

Dunharg shook his head at the guards and they lowered their weapons. Cullen touched the edge of the torn metal.

 

“Do you know what maps were stolen?” asked Evelyn.

 

“We do,” Dunharg replied. “We have records of these thaigs. However, we cannot confirm which ones she has taken for certain until restoration has been completed and the contents of the vault curated and accounted for.”

 

“But you have some idea,” Evelyn said, looking at the dwarf. “You don’t know for sure but you have an idea of where she went.”

 

“We have some clues - scintilla, really,” said Dunharg.

 

“What clues are those?”

 

“We suspected several thaig maps were stolen. King Bhelen sent troops to apprehend her in the deep roads. I warned him that even if they caught her, it would be a phyrric victory at best.”

 

“Truly, the queen is Formidable,” Evelyn said.

 

“All the parties returned unsuccessful - all but one. The one we sent towards the Cadash Thaig.”

 

“How odd,” Evelyn murmured. “And you have a map of the roads to that thaig?”

 

“We do.”

 

“I would like to have them, good Shaper,” she said.

 

“My La-”

 

“Do not deny the Inquisitor,” Evelyn said, steel coming to her voice. “Did not King Bhelen command you to assist me with my investigation? The copies of the map, if you please.”

 

Dunharg looked at her uncertainly and fried in the glare of her cold blue eyes. He then scurried into the vault.

 

Evelyn walked up to Cullen. “What’s your read, Commander?” Cullen ask.

 

“The doors are torn,” he said, his mind preoccupied as he stared at the doors.

 

“Thank you, anything else?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrow twitching.

 

“It might be magical,” he replied. He bent to point at the tears in the metal. “See here a mixture of fire and corrosion - flame and acidic nature spells. Then there was just plain force of will that tore them off the hinges.” He pointed to parts of the door that were embossed with runes. “These are similar to the runes used in phylactery chambers in the Circles,” he added. “They weaken and ward off magic. For this to have happened, it would have taken an extremely powerful mage.”

 

Evelyn frowned slightly. “That begs the question of how she even got i-” she began and stopped. Dunharg returned, bearing a scroll rolled tightly and stored in a tube. “Thank you, Shaper Dunharg,” she smiled at him, taking the scroll. I will send an Inquisition agent to gather any knowledge of the Cadash Thaig that you may have. Kindly render her all assistance as if it were me.”

 

Dunharg looked uncertain as she pocketed the scroll. “I shall have to inform King Bhelen-”

 

“No need, I will tell him myself,” Evelyn smiled. It was a start. Evelyn felt like she had taken hold of a tiny thread in the darkness. The Queen robbing the Shaperate and stealing Deep Roads maps integral to Orzammar’s military defence? She could see how that would be construed as an act of war. Still, she had the thread in her grasp. All she had to do was pull and see where it led.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the mystery begins. What do you think so far? Feed me comments!


	6. Talk To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations of hearts and heartbreaks. The mystery of the crimes of the Queen of Fereldan deepen.

“That’s impossible,” Alistair snapped. Evelyn and Cullen were sitting with the king in his bedroom, which was significantly larger and also overlooking the city. His chambers were lit with distantly glowing magma bound in recesses in the walls. The light illuminated Alistair’s frown now as he stared at the map to the Cadash Thaig that they had put before him.

 

“Why is it impossible?” Evelyn asked as she crossed her legs, sitting opposite the king.

 

“Because we’ve already been there,” he replied and picked up the map. “We went there during the Blight to help a friend. The location was marked on the map by our friend. Sol also went there the first time she was looking for that damned Morrigan.”

 

“They allege that she took this,” Evelyn frowned, biting her thumbnail in thought. She glanced at Cullen and saw his hand twitch as he rested his arms on the chair beside her, his eyes disapproving. She took her finger out of her mouth. “Maker’s breath,” she sighed. “Would she do something like this, Alistair? The dwarves believe she broke into a vault of military secrets and made off with a map to a number of thaigs.”

 

“I wouldn’t put it beyond her to… if she were driven to,” Alistair said honestly. He ran his hand over his chin and covered his mouth with his fist, worry in his hazel eyes. Evelyn felt sympathy wash over for the man. He was being put in a position to choose between love and duty. It was a situation she found all too familiar. Were he the man she hoped he was, he would have to choose to end the war despite all costs - even if it meant leaving Sol to the justice of the dwarves or the Deep Roads. “But why?” he asked in exasperation, slamming his hand on the arm of his chair. “Maker’s breath, Sol! I don’t understand. She already has the Thaig’s location. Why would she need another map?”

 

“Perhaps she was not looking for this one,” Cullen said gently. “There were other thaigs mentioned. Could she have been heading out to one of those?”

 

“It’s possible,” Alistair growled. “She mentioned leads in the Deep Roads, but she never tells me details. Doesn’t want to worry me, she says. I have enough trouble holding the throne and the loyalty of the Bannorn, she says. Fat lot of good that does me now with this war.” He sighed heavily and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to…” His words ended with a heavy sigh.

 

“Well, it may not be as it seems, I’m sure Sol has her reasons. She doesn’t seem the reckless sort - and trust me, I know the reckless sort because I am one.” Evelyn said comfortingly, patting Alistair shoulder. The man smiled slightly in gratitude and pat her hand. It must be truly troubling him if  Alistair wasn’t even making jokes about it. “The dwarves believe that she’s there because no one from their search parties returned from that thaig. That’s a scant lead.”

 

“Why didn’t Bhelen just tell Alistair about this before?” Cullen asked with a frown, idly turning the lion sword that they’d gotten from the Diamond Quarters market. The lion’s head handguard glinted in the light of the magma, the lion’s snarl seeming to move as Cullen idly spun the sword on the tip of its sheathe. “Forgive my candor but it seems... a legitimate reason to declare war when the Warden and Queen is believed to have stolen military secrets.”

 

“Embarrassment, that’s why,” Alistair frowned. “The dwarves are a bit traditional about women. If they let out that one woman - nevermind that she was The Warden - had broken into their Shaperate and stolen secrets, they’d feel humiliated.” He ran a finger over his chin as he rested his elbow on the armrest, his eyes on the troubling map. “I wonder if any of my messengers got to Bhelen.”

 

“If there were any more of those darkspawn and tainted raiders like the ones we encountered, it’s possible that none of them did,” Evelyn said. “Well, we now know what Bhelen wants us to know. Now we should find out what precisely happened.”

 

“What Bhelen wants us to know?” Alistair asked, turning his eyes to her.

 

“We were expected at the Shaperate,” Evelyn said, leaning her cheek on her hand wearily.

 

“So?”

 

“It’s possible that Bhelen would want the Shaperate to highlight certain aspects of the incidence to us,” Cullen explained. “Since, we were expected and from that little I understood of the conversation that didn’t involve looking up a dictionary, it would be likely that the Shaperate were also told what to say to us.”

 

“That’s sneaky,” Alistair blinked. “I’m a little surprised you thought of that.”

 

“My hammer is now more of a corkscrew,” Evelyn smiled at Cullen warmly.

 

“I could make so many jokes about that,” Alistair said. “But I won’t.”

 

Evelyn laughed.

 

“I also do not believe that the theft happened a month ago,” said Cullen, moving on quickly.

 

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

 

“Either it happened earlier than a month ago, or they have an extremely inefficient clean up operation,” Cullen went on. “They were still curating whatever was left in the vault. Nothing was even adequately categorized or sorted yet. Everything was strewn all over the floor, still.”

 

“So?”

 

“After a disaster like that, the first thing you’ll want to do is pick everything up and try to sort it - it happened to us after the incident at Kirkwall when I had to monitor the Chantry and the Circle’s reliquary restoration. There were quite a few dangerous magical items among the mess that we had to sort out. So why was everything still on the ground? Not to mention the fact that the doors were not repaired nor were the guards slacking.”

 

“What does the guards slacking have to do with anything?” Alistair asked.

 

“Guards are only so alert when something they were supposed to prevent happened - and happened not to long ago,” Cullen sighed cynically. “You should know, Alistair, you’ve done your fair share of standing around making sure no one steals Kinloch Hold’s only boat.”

 

“Then we’re as perplexed as ever, maybe even more so,” Alistair sighed.

 

“We will find out after the banquet tonight, Alistair,” Evelyn assured him. “Tomorrow, when we meet with Bhelen, hopefully we may be able to find out more.”

 

Alistair groaned. “Maker, I forgot about the banquet…” he said.

 

“Best foot forward, Majesty,” Evelyn beamed, picking up the map from the table and standing up. “Cull, we need to get ready as well.”

 

Evelyn saw an identical expression of displeasure on Cullen’s face as she did on Alistair’s. “Maker’s breath, it’s like talking to a child.” She poked his shoulder. “Come on, I bought you a sword, you have to attend the banquet with me.”

 

“I didn’t know it came with a caveat,” Cullen stood up.

 

“Most gifts do with wives,” Alistair tried not to smile.

 

“See? The King of Ferelden is wise.” Evelyn flashed him her most winsome smile.

 

He raised an eyebrow and sighed in resignation.

 

++++

 

To Evelyn and Cullen’s great relief, the banquet was painless. King Bhelen was the soul of hospitality and Alistair, despite his worries about Solona, behaved himself and watched his tongue. Evelyn was a little surprised with the way Alistair charmed the nobles. The man could be very likeable when he put his mind to it. She reflected on this as she and Cullen finally made their way back to their quarters.

 

Alistair’s hold on the throne was tenuous at best when he came into power. She knew that he only had the Blight to compel nobles to follow his banner. After that, he had nothing to give the nation other than a Warden Queen. True, he and Solona were war heroes, but not even saving the world counted for much gratitude, and she knew it. It had taken her two years before the nobles of Orlais and Ferelden stepped in to try and depose her. It had taken Alistair several months. He had to move quickly to solidify his claim. He rallied the Bannorn through restoration efforts and instated his wife as Arl of Amaranthine to legitimize her presence at court. A mage, an arl, a warden and a queen. Not even Evelyn wore that many hats. She was either the Inquisitor or the crazy woman about to kill you with lightning, sometimes both at the same time, depending on who you were.

 

She glanced at Cullen as they entered their quarters. Cullen immediately winced and unbuttoned his top three buttons of his Inquisition uniform. “Do you need to let it out again?” she teased.

 

“No, I just hate the feeling of buttons up to the throat,” he said loftily. “Why? Do I need to let it out again?”

 

“Depends on  what ‘it’ is that you’re refering to,” she archly winked at him.

 

“Maker’s breath,” he laughed.

 

“I’m glad the banquet went well,” she said, moving to her dresser to untie her sash from her waist. Over the years, tasks had become easier to do with one hand. “Bhelen seems very hospitable.”

 

“Mmhm,” Cullen murmured behind her. She heard the pulling of cloth from their bed.

 

“And Alistair seemed better as well, he’s actually quite charming when he wants to be.” She let her hair down from its braided updo, courtesy of Cullen, and shook her hair free, dark locks waving about her face.

 

“Yes, that’s a thing he does well,” Cullen said from the window. Evelyn looked at him through the mirror. He was hanging the sheet over the window by wedging it in little grooves in the stone. The room was cast into the dimmer light of the magma that warmed the rooms through the walls, the light from the Diamond Quarters below were cut off by the sheet. She chuckled.

 

“And Sol,” she said, looking away and unbuttoning her uniform. “He’s really worried about Sol.”

 

Cullen seemed to hesitate. “He is,” he said finally.

 

“Did you know her?” she asked at last.

 

“Solona?” Cullen asked, stepping back from the window, watching to see if the sheets held. “I… did.”

 

“How did you meaningful-pause know her?” Evelyn smiled slightly and turned to lean on her dresser, her uniform open at the neck revealing her white silk slip. She saw his ears redden from behind. “Are you blushing?”

 

“No,” he replied quickly, frowning. His face mottled even more as he stepped away from the window to undress.

 

She bit her lip and tried not to smile. “So… you knew her?” Evelyn pressed.

 

“I did.”

 

“And how well did you know her?”

 

“Not… very.”

 

All those meaning pauses and blushing cheeks.

 

Evelyn held the stump of her arm. “Did you… like her?”

 

Cullen made a disgusted noise, his fingers fumbling with a button.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen snapped. “Yes, yes I did, if you must know!”

 

She smiled at him warmly and shook her head. She stepped forward and moved his hand from the button. Calmly, she slipped it out of its hole. “Why are you so shy about admitting that?” she asked.

 

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

 

“And?”

 

He gave her a pleading look.

 

“Well, you’re the one being so mysterious about it, I’m dying of curiosity now,” she looked up at him, undoing the next button for him.

 

“I was… very foolish,” he admitted, as if every word were dragged out of him. “I shouldn’t have - I had a sworn duty to watch over my charges, and yet I shirked my duty to-” He faltered, his face aflame with the blush that reached across his chest.

 

Evelyn tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly in curiosity. “To…”

 

Cullen gave her a sullen look. “T-to kiss her.”

 

“Awe!” Evelyn beamed, laying a hand on his chest. He was so warm from the blush she could feel the heat radiating off him.  

 

“Don’t,” Cullen said and pulled his uniform off.

 

“What?” Evelyn grinned. “I think it’s terribly romantic!”

 

“It was silly, I would prefer not to talk about it. I should never have kissed a mage.”

 

“You ended up kissing mages a lot,” she said archly as she sat down on the bed to take her shoes off. “Among other things.”

 

“That’s not the point,” Cullen said, folding his uniform neatly and putting it over the back of a chair.

 

“It’s the fact that you feel you shirked your duty,” she smiled at him. “That does you credit, Cullen.” She dropped a boot to the ground.

 

He was silent. She realized that he never ever spoke of any of his past loves. Then again, neither did she, until they went to Ostwick and she had no choice but for him to meet Ser Sofia Laurent. Still, she knew he was no virgin when they met, he had to have learned all those tricks from someone. He caught her smiling at him as he held the back of the chair, pulling off his boot.

 

“Why are you smiling?” he asked, somewhat suspiciously.

 

“Nothing, I’m just proud of you,” she replied honestly. He grunted, not sure whether to believe her. “I’m serious, Cullen. I’m not going to think badly of you for a lapse of judgement because you wanted to kiss her.”

 

“You’re kinder to me than I am to myself, then,” he said.

 

“I know.” She dropped her other boot. It fell on its side next to the first. “What’s she like?” She looked down, undoing her uniform. “She must have been amazing. She stopped a Blight on her own. That’s incredible. I had help from everyone. I can’t imagine what it must be like facing such a task on your own.”

 

“She was amazing,” Cullen said quietly, giving in. “She was Irving’s apprentice and very gifted as a mage. Prodigious, actually. I attended her Harrowing. I was supposed to strike her down if - but she succeeded. It was the quickest and cleanest Harrowing I’d ever seen.” He walked barefoot over to Evelyn and squatted down to set her boots straight up by the bed. “Why are you asking me all this?”

 

“Because I’ve never met her,” Evelyn said. Because she was the one with which you were tempted in your confinement, she added in the quiet of her head. She did not want to open old wounds on this trip, but she wondered if that was inevitable.

 

“You’ll meet her,” he kissed her cheek.

 

“You seem certain she’s… well.”

 

“Yes, I am certain that she’s meaningful-pause well,” he smiled, leaning his hands on on the bed on either side of her. She felt the mattress depress with the weight of his body. “Aren’t you? You keep telling Alistair that.”

 

“I know what it’s like not knowing if your heart is alive or not,” she said quietly as she smiled and touched his cheek. She kissed him. “I just wondered if you were, um, if you were-”

 

“Comfortable?” Cullen asked, meeting her gaze as he leaned on the bed, his face and frame filling the world. She forgot how much bigger he was than her sometimes. “I’m not.”

 

“What?” she blinked.

 

“What are you not telling me, Eve?”

 

She felt her heart skip a beat, then hammer in her chest. “I-It’s nothing-” she faltered, looking away, feeling the heat coming to her cheeks now.

 

“Evelyn,” he said firmly. “Tell me.”

 

She winced.

 

“You can tell Alistair but not me?”

 

She was unable to hide the guilty surprise from her eyes. She could face nobles and kings and play the Game, but Cullen knew every tell of hers.

 

“I know you went out with him that night we camped on Lake Calenhad’s shore.”

 

She looked down crestfallen. “Damn it, Rylen,” she muttered.

 

“He sent scouts to monitor you both in the forest. He did the right thing. But you know that’s not the issue here.”

 

She bit her lip, feeling small, insignificant. It was so hard to admit… She shook her head and moved to stand. He caught her shoulders and pressed her back down to the bed. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. His honeyed eyes were pleading, full of concern, and yet determined. She arched her shoulders in his grasp, seeming to to shrink before him as she held her hand to her chest. “Evie,” he murmured softly. “Tell me.”

 

She bit her lip. “Something’s wrong with me, Cullen.”

 

He waited.

 

She looked at him expectantly, hoping that she didn’t have to say it.

 

“I’m waiting for you to tell me what’s specifically wrong with you,” he said.

 

She smacked his shoulder sullenly. “Don’t make jokes.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t cast properly!” she shouted and groaned, covering her face with her hand.

 

Cullen’s thumbs rubbed her shoulders as she fought to calm herself. It made her feel so pathetic to say it. He was going to be shocked, he was going to be incredulous - the Inquisitor who sealed the breach and stopped the Qun suddenly couldn’t cast-

 

“Why?” his voice cut through her thoughts.

 

She looked at him in surprise. “You’re not... “ she paused. “You’re not ashamed of me?”

 

“What? Why would I be?” he exclaimed. “Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

 

She pushed his hands from her shoulders. “I can’t cast properly under normal circumstances. My magic falters up to a point. But if I… if I think about… if I think about bad things....”

 

“What bad things?” Cullen asked, resting his hands on her thigh.

 

She winced as the memories filled her mind, the pain he was in, the sight of him falling from the Tears with Keili holding him. “Of your suffering,” she whispered. “If I think of that, I get so angry, the spells balance.”

 

She sighed in frustration, pulling off her uniform top and chucking it on the bed. She was sweating anyway. “That’s where my most powerful magic comes from, Cullen,” she murmured, a mocking edge to her voice. She couldn’t look at his face. “It comes from your pain. Maker’s breath.” She moved away from him and curled up on the bed, her back to him.

 

He moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, one knee curling on the mattress. He took her hand in his. “Eve, you know that’s alright, don’t you?” he said.

 

“What?” Evelyn snapped up at him. “It’s alright that I can only cast powerfully when I think of you bleeding and falling away in the hands of a monster?”

 

“Yes,” he said gently.

 

“Do you know how monstrous that makes me? That cannot be where my magic comes from!”

 

“It’s not,” he sighed. “It comes from your wish to protect. You’ve had to do much to save me time and again. It is the thing that pushes you to reach your limit. You will always be a protector.” She shut her eyes, hating herself. “Stop hating yourself for doing what must be done. You were always willing to help others with their second chance. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

 

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “You’re too forgiving, Cullen,” she said softly.

 

“Aren’t you as well?” His thumb gently rubbed her hand.

 

“Not really,” she murmured, looking away. “I’m a terrible person who does many bad things, only with a good excuse.”

 

He smiled gently and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I do not believe that,” he whispered, his hand stroking her hair.

 

She felt a lump come to her throat. That was why she hadn’t stepped over the edge, that was what kept her one step away from Envy’s vision. This silly man who loved her despite it all. She sat up and hugged him tightly, kneeling on the bed. She felt his arms wrap around her, drawing her close. She let out a quivering sigh. “Cullen,” she breathed against his neck. “You’re too good for me.”

 

She felt him chuckle, his laughter reverberating from his chest right into hers. “Maybe,” he agreed disarmingly.

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle as well, the laughter spilling out of her and taking her tension with it.

 

He pulled away from here, relief in his eyes mirroring hers. “We should wash and get to sleep. The peace talks with King Bhelen is tomorrow. We have a long day ahead of us.”

 

She nodded and kissed him. Then her fingers poked him playfully in the side. He swore against her lips and sprang up from the bed, ticklish. She grinned at him as he stood, looking at her with a wry smile and shaking his head with a hand on his side and went to prepare for bed.

 

“Evie,” he said as she moved to stand from the bed. She paused and looked over her shoulder, stilled by the sound of his voice. He looked at her with his heart in his eyes. “Next time, tell me anything. I’m here.”

 

She felt love and gratitude swelling within her, warming her like a hot bath from within. “I know.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is really on a slow boil right now. There is a lot of groundwork needed for future events which may span the Deep Roads all the way into the Fade. I've also got a new villain in the works, whose hand shall soon be revealed. Let me know what you think of the writing, I'm not used to doing much drama so any feedback you have will help me improve. :)


	7. Proven Mettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, there is no other way to prove oneself than with strength of arms. Also, squeeing.

The halls of the Assembly had the ability to make sounds reverberate. Any speaker’s voice would resonate across the hall, echoing off the stone, filled and sonorous. Evelyn and Alistair sat in the centre of the room at a table with King Bhelen and his second, Vortag Gavorn. Evelyn wore her finest Inquisition robes of dragon scale and bone, the crest of the Inquisition glinting on her breastplate. Alistair too wore fine plate armour instead of his usual leather and splintmail. On his head was the crown of Ferelden, probably giving him a headache. The choice to wear armour would have been a strange one, were it not for the fact that Bhelen himself wore mail in his own Assembly hall. It had been Evelyn’s idea to follow suit. Dwarven politics was nervous business, it seemed.

 

Around them, the Deshyrs watched the peace talks. Cullen was not part of the proceedings, being only the Commander of the guard, but he was nevertheless afforded a seat at the proceedings, along with Alistair’s own aide, who was a quiet man that Alistair seemed happy to avoid. Cullen realized that Alistair really did not like talking to his staff at all.

 

“It would not be right for Ferelden to deny responsibility when it is their Queen who committed the crime,” Bhelen was saying.

 

“Granted,” Alistair replied, “Ferelden will not shirk her responsibilities and beat the reparations necessary to Orzammar, provided there is irrefutable proof that the Queen was indeed the one who perpetrated these crimes.”

 

“Forgive us if we seem to doubt the honour of your guards, King Bhelen,” Evelyn added. “We do not wish to question their honour. If you put your trust in their words, we would not question it. But we need more than this. We cannot go to war and spill the blood of thousands of innocents based on the words of two men, however honourable they are.” At her words, the Deshyrs began to murmur in disapproval.

 

“Blood has already been spilled,” Bhelen replied. “Search parties sent after the queen were killed.”

 

“Yet, we cannot presume they were killed by her,” Evelyn said, her voice placating. The Deshyrs began to shout down to her now, waving their fists with their outrage.

 

“You question the honour of the dwarves?” they yelled. “Your queen killed our people!” Cullen frowned, glancing at Rylen and Charter at the doors of the assembly. They met his eyes. They were prepared for anything, should any of this descend into madness.

 

“As you can see, my hands are tied, Inquisitor,” Bhelen spread his hands with a slight shrug. “The Assembly demands justice-”

 

“From the woman who put that crown on your head?” Alistair asked coldly. The words did not seem to carry over the clamour, but Cullen, seated close to the table, was able to hear them.

 

Bhelen’s bushy eyebrow seemed to twitch. “Orzammar has not forgotten our debt to the Queen when she helped us choose our rightful king,” he said calmly. “But what has been done, what she has been accused of, is inexcusable.”

 

“We need more time to investigate the nature of these crimes, your Majesties. To rush into war… we cannot have blood unjustly spilled on our hands,” Evelyn said to them both.

 

“Is that not why we have offered the option of reparations?” Bhelen asked. “We can work out the details of the payment later - it would be simple terms. Tax exemptions for our merchants, priority portage for shipping at Denerim and Highever’s docks, merchant alcoves and the like…”

 

“You’re gouging me,” Alistair said. Cullen saw Evelyn subtly kick Alistair under the table.

 

“Before that can even be discussed, we need to establish the extent of the Queen’s involvement,” she said firmly.

 

“We have already completed the Inquiry,” Bhelen said as the Deshyrs continued to yell their tirade against Evelyn and Alistair.

 

“Am I not here for that?” Evelyn asked calmly. “Give me full access to your Shaperate and Deep Roads. Allow the Inquisition time to lead our own Inquiry into this matter. With our findings, we will be able to better determine the extent of the reparations to be made by Ferelden to Orzammar.”

 

“And we are to trust this Inquisition?” One Deshyr yelled down over the others as he stood at his seat. “This woman has no place in Orzammar - we do not acknowledge her! She won’t bring justice! She is a lackey to the King of Ferelden!”

 

“I thought dwarves had honour,” Evelyn said loudly with a sneer in her voice. “Now I hear them yelling down at me like fishwives.” Cullen winced and saw Alistair do the same. “If that so-called Deshyr has words for me, let him come down and say it to me. Gladly shall I meet him in a trial of arms to prove my honour.”

 

Bhelen’s eyes lit up, the clamour around them was louder than ever, but Cullen could hear cheers in the crowd as much as he hear the jeers. They were excited?

 

“A proving then,” Bhelen asked.

 

“Let it be,” Evelyn tilted her chin up proudly, her voice carrying the full weight of the Inquisition as it rose above the clamour. “Let the Ancestors themselves show their favour upon me and my honour so that no deshyr may ever again question the Inquisition without making known that his own words are dog-spittle.”

 

Cullen sank in his seat, his head throbbing again as he rubbed it with two gloved fingers. Maker’s breath, this woman would be the death of him - cementing peace talks with a trial at arms? What in the Void was she thinking?

 

Bhelen, however, seemed to highly approve of Evelyn’s words. “And who will serve as your second in the Arena?”

 

“I will,” Alistair replied. The cheers were audible over the sneering rabble rousers now. Cullen covered his eyes with his hands.

 

“It will be a Proving to remember,” Bhelen beamed. He stood up then and held his massive double-headed axe. He brought the pommel down hard on the floor, the sound of the strike thundering over the Assembly, the Deshyrs’ voices fell silent.

 

“Then Deshyrs of the Assembly!” Bhelen spoke, his voice echoing. “Today, the Ancestors have graced us with a great honour, the Inquisitor and the King of Ferelden will take to the Proving Arena. Tonight, under the eyes of the Ancestors, the Inquisitor and the King of Ferelden will prove their mettle and their honour for the Inquisition’s Inquiry into the charges against the Queen of Ferelden. Let no man question their findings should they emerge victorious, for their task was blessed by the Ancestors and the Paragons themselves.”

 

Bhelen paused. He smirked slightly at the two of them. “But should they fail, they must accept our terms for reparations and the Queen of Ferelden will face dwarven justice.”

 

“Agreed.” Alistair smiled slightly.

 

++++

 

The door to Alistair’s quarters shut a little harder than Cullen expected. Alistair and Evelyn turned to look at him, his expression like thunder as he crossed his arms across his breastplate. Alistair glanced at Evelyn. “Should we start backing away now or…”

 

“You couldn’t get far enough,” Cullen growled, his head throbbing. “So who’d like to explain why I wasn’t briefed on this madness?”

 

“Because it was unexpected,” Evelyn said quickly.

 

“I’ll bet it was - a trial at arms to validate an Inquiry for a peace talk?”

 

“It’s actually very clever, Cullen,” Alistair said.

 

“Is it?” Evelyn blinked.

 

“Is it?” Cullen’s voice grated like a whetstone on the edge of a blade.

 

Alistair glared at Evelyn. “Are you telling me you just challenged him because…”

 

“Because he was an ass. It was a surprise to me that the idea of a proving would be so well received.”

 

“Maker’s mercy,” Alistair shook his head. “Well, either way, it was a good idea even if you didn’t exactly think it through. The dwarves won’t question our findings if we win. They put great stock behind the Provings. That’s how Sol and I got Bhelen into a position to even wear that stupid crown. He wasn’t exactly universally loved.”

 

“I can see why, the man is a viper,” Cullen grumbled.

 

“Try not to let on that you think so,” Alistair smiled wryly. “They might get the wrong idea and toss us out into the snow.”

 

“See? It was a good plan!” Evelyn beamed at Cullen.

 

“One that you just made up!” Cullen retorted.

 

“Anyway, we should prepare for battle!” Evelyn looked at Alistair.

 

“We can’t back out of it now,” Alistair said. “Just… you just be careful, Evelyn. You know...” He glanced at Cullen.

 

“I know all about her casting,” Cullen snarled. “Which is why this is... “ He sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. His voice took on a note of resignation as he shook his head. “...Which is why this is entirely expected, coming from Evelyn. Maker’s breath, I’m getting too old for your approach to problems, Evelyn.”

 

“If she hadn’t instigated the proving, I would have,” Alistair said. “Of course, you’d have been my second, Cullen. Not her.”

 

Evelyn made a disgusted noise. “I can cast well enough for this,” she snapped at them both.

 

“You’re not bringing the gauntlet,” Cullen said flatly.

 

“Yes, dear,” she sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know. I’m not bringing the gauntlet.”

 

“You’re not to ask anyone else to bring the gauntlet for you, either,” Cullen added. “It is not to mysteriously appear at the Proving Grounds nor in your pack with you going ‘I don’t know how it got there, honestly, Cullen, I have no clue.”

 

She glared at him, her cheeks puffed pugnaciously. “Alright! I get it, already, Maker’s breath.”

 

Alistair grinned at them. “It’s usually Sol doing that Cullen talk,” he laughed. “Of course, I’ll listen to anything she says if she has cheese.”

 

“Evelyn prefers alcohol to cheese,” Cullen muttered. Evelyn grinned impishly at him. He gave in. This was a typical solution to Evelyn’s problems. Sometimes she was so much like Cassandra it scared him. “Then you both should get ready. The Proving is in a few hours.”

 

“What’s the game plan?” Evelyn asked Alistair. “How will this go?”

 

“With Sol, it was a one on one match,” Alistair replied, scratching his stubble. “I remember she was quite annoyed about not being able to bring Mr Wumples.”

 

“Mr Wumples?” Cullen asked.

 

“Her mabari. Don’t ask about the name, I have no idea. She’s weird about her dog.”

 

“Sounds familiar,” Evelyn murmured. “Suddenly Dog isn’t so bad.”

 

“Either way, you will be fighting alone until there is a match requiring your second, probably in the third and fourth rounds.”

 

“And I'm allowed lyrium?”

 

“You're allowed that, poultices, elixirs and all weapons,” Alistair replied. “But killing your opponent opponent is considered bad form, so knock outs or some form of incapacitation is the best.” He paused. “You're putting on a show, after all.”

 

Cullen shook his head head as Evelyn grinned with far too much excitement. “We will bring in some soldiers to monitor the arena. Rylen, Ankel and Charter will be there in case we need back up.”

 

“Then we have our plan,” Evelyn grinned.

 

“So, would you like me to bring sword sword and shield, dual swords or my pike, Inquisitor?” Alistair’s grin mirrored Evelyn’s.

 

“Ooh, you can use a pike?” she cooed.

 

“Maker’s breath! Sword and shield, if you please,” Cullen said firmly.

 

“Yes, Commander,” Alistair all but saluted. “Don’t worry, it will be fine, Cullen. We just go in there, kick a few dwarves around and we’re right as rain - I think.”

 

“That does wonders to comfort me,” Cullen drawled.

 

++++

 

The Proving Grounds were everything Evelyn hoped it would be. A pit sunken into the ground, seats rising up all around her, filled with dwarves watching and cheering with lust for battle, their roars echoing from the ceiling and massive stone walls. Around them, carved from the stone, the Paragons of Orzammar looked down upon the arena as they towered over the crowd, holding up the very ceiling of the Proving Grounds itself. From her antechamber, Evelyn could hear the roar of the crowd through the door that opened to the arena.

 

She adjusted her boot strap, her foot on the low dwarven bench.

 

Alistair was also in his splintmail armour. “Not wearing the plate?” she asked him curiously.

 

“It slows me down,” he replied. “I’m not as fit as I used to be.”

 

“Yes, this is the perfect time to tell me that,” she laughed. “One, two…” she counted her lyrium vials. It should last her through five battles.

 

“I just prefer to move faster,” Alistair shrugged. “Cullen’s been wearing his day in and out, so it’s practically a second skin for him. I haven’t, unfortunately. Maybe I should.” He shifted his shield on his shield arm, gripping the strap. The bear fur on his shieldglittered in the light of the magma in the walls. “This will be fun,” he said with a grin. “So I’ll take point, draw their blows while you stand back, shoot lightning and make sure I don’t die?”

 

“Naturally,” she grinned back, the excitement infectious. “Duck when I say so and everything will be fine.”

 

“Cullen would disapprove of us grinning like a pair of raw recruits before a sparring mission.”

 

“We’ll just have to not tell him, won’t we?” Evelyn laughed.

 

“More secrets?” Alistair was aghast.

 

“It is no secret that my dear beloved husband can be a stick in the mud sometimes,” Evelyn shrugged. “But maybe when I get back, I’ll give him a trebuchet. Those calibrations should happily preoccupy him for a week.”

 

“My wife never buys me a trebuchet,” he pouted. The door behind them opened then, the Proving Master entering. “We are ready for you, sire, Inquisitor,” said the elderly dwarf. “Come through the opposite door when the door opens.”

 

“Right,” Evelyn said, feeling the tingles of excitement quivering through her as she stood before the door.

 

“Should we squee?” Alistair asked.

 

“That would be unbecoming, my lord!” Evelyn gasped. She paused. “Just a little maybe.”

 

And like fools, they both squealed in excitement like little girls and burst into laughter, holding on to each for support.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” boomed a voice from outside the door, sonorous and resonant over the roar of the crowd. “This is a glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honour of the Inquisition!”

 

“That’s our cue,” Evelyn said, wiping the tears from her eyes. The door to the Arena opened and Evelyn stepped through to the roar of the crowd. The whole arena thundered with her entry. It was a heady feeling. Standing tall, her dragon bone and scale armour glinting white and gold in the light of the massive braziers hear the ceiling, she walked out onto the competitors plate. She could see King Bhelen’s box at the end of the arena, rising over the audience. Cullen was seated there as part of her deputation. She idly blew him a kiss. Even from here, she could see him smile and shake his head.

 

“Fighting tonight, I present to you the Inquisitor Trevelyan herself with her second, the King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden!” The roar was deaffening now. Evelyn felt the very grounds shake with it. “Facing the Inquisitor today will be Lord Alaric Bemot of the House Bemot!”

 

Evelyn saw a dwarf enter from the opposite antechamber door. He was stocky and weilded a massive hammer as if it weighed as little as a child’s toy. The dwarf was the one who was calling out to her in the Assembly. “You honour me with this match,” said Alaric with a curt bow.

 

“May you learn of my honour this day, Lord Bemot, and never question it again,” she said, drawing her blade hilt. Her sword sprang to life. Dwarves had incredible resistance to magic. She had to also make sure not to kill him. Bemot drew his hammer.

 

“First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!”

 

Bemot didn’t wait. He charged, the hammer swinging. Evelyn stepped back, borne on winds of frost. She heard the crowd cheer as the hammer smashed into the ground, cracking the tiles of the arena. She darted to the side as Bemot gave chase. Put on a show! She stopped and met his charge with one of her own as the crowd erupted. She caught the next strike with her blade, deflecting it in its swing. She spun around the man with the flow of her sword, firing a blast of energy from her mind. Bemot staggered away. She slammed her foot on the stones of the arena, snapping the Veil. The ground cracked under Bemot’s feet, opening a chasm. Bemot staggered and sidestepped away from the precipice. She had all the breaks she needed. She frost stepped back a distance from Bemot and slipped her hilt into her belt, watching him expectantly.

 

Bemot charged. “This is why I hate fighting women!” Bemot snarled, raising his hammer and charging at her once more. Evelyn’s eyebrow twitched. She flexed her hand, pulling at the veil as the rocks snapped under her with Bemot’s charge. Rocks flew from the ground around her closed fist, a massive gauntlet of stone.

 

Bemot smashed down with his hammer at her. Evelyn sidestepped the heavy strike, the hammer striking the ground, spraying shards of rocks that flew at her face. There was a flash of green that fired around her as she brought her fist into Bemot’s face. The rocks gatherred around her fist fired off as if flung from a trebuchet, taking Bemot with them. He crashed across the grounds of the arena, rolling to a stop as rocks scattered around him. His hammer rolled heavily to a stop away from him.

 

Evelyn stood where she was as the dust settled around her, knowing that she struck an imposing figure amidst the striken grounds of the arena. She watched Bemot twitching on the ground. She was sure she didn’t kill him. He tried to push himself up weakly, his arm shaking. Then he fell to the ground of the arena, unconscious.

 

“The winner is Inquisitor Trevelyan!”

 

Evelyn had to resist the urge to grin and squee. There would be squeeing later. Instead, she stood there and smiled faintly, her hand on her hip, the loose locks from her braid framing her face as Bemot was carried out of the arena.

 

Evelyn hadn’t used that much mana. She could continue.

 

“This is a glory proving!” the Proving Master continued as Evelyn stepped back to her plate. The tiles broken around her. “Fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honour of the Inquisition. Fighting next, Lady Amer Helmi, youngest daughter of house Helmi!”

 

Evelyn saw a young woman emerge from another antechamber. This drawf looked at her with no bluster. She drew two daggers. “Lady Inquisitor,” Helmi said calmly as she bowed. “You honour me with your blade, Inquisitor,” she said. “I will never forget this day.”

 

Evelynm drew her blade once more, the blade springing to life. “I shall fight in a manner worthy of your respect, Lady Helmi,” she said quietly with a slight bow. Helmi looked surprised, but pleased, a slight smile playing at her young lips.

 

“First warrior to fall is vanquished! Fight!”

 

Helmi did not charge. Evelyn realized this fighter was much more serious about the battle. She braced herself as Helmi watched her, their eyes locked. Evelyn itched. She fired a blast of force at Helmi. To her surprise, Helmi ducked aside and charged to her right. Evelyn blocked a dagger with her sword and her body flashed green as she felt the other dagger catch her side. She’d be dead if not for her shield. Evelyn frost stepped back, her feet leaving trails of ice on the ground. Helmi followed her, moving faster than Bemot. Evelyn parried another stab and ducked the second blade. She closed the stump of her arm around Helmi’s arm as the dwarf stabbed at her and Evelyn brought her forehead onto Helmi’s nose. She felt blood spray as pain bloomed on her forehead from the impact. She did not want to stab Helmi.

 

Evelyn pulled the heat from the air into her blade, leaving cold in its wake as Helmi staggered away from her, blood pouring from her nose. Evelyn slashed her sword across the air, a wall of ice splintered in the air, wrapping around Helmi’s legs. Helmi snarled and stabbed at the ice, trying to free herself.

 

“Yeild, Lady Helmi!” Evelyn said.

 

Helmi threw the daggers at her. Evelyn parried one and ducked the other. To her secret horror, her hair fell free, the thrown dagger catching her braid bind and cutting it. She narrowed her eyes. “Yeild, sister!” she commanded. “Unless you have more daggers to throw at me. I have no end to my magic.” To make her point, the ice crept up Helmi’s hips.

 

Helmi slammed her fist on the ice that bound her. “I must yeild,” she growled between clenched teeth.

 

“The winner is Inquisitor Trevelyan!” The crowd roared. Evelyn flexed her hand and the ice snapped from Helmi’s legs, falling to the ground in glittering shards and freeing her.

 

“Lady Helmi,” she smiled at the dwarf. “You are formidable and smart. If you want a job, let me know. The Inquisition always looks for talent.”

 

Helmi couldn’t help but laugh. “You are strange indeed,” she said. “We shall see, Inquisitor.”

 

As Helmi staggered out of the ring, Evelyn walked back to her plate as the crowd roared.

 

“Now for the final battle!” announced the Proving Master. “This is a glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honour of the Inquisition. It will be a two-on-two battle - Inquisitor Trevelyan and her second, King Alistair of Ferelden, facing Hanashan and Vala, two of the greatest warriors ever to grace the Silent Sisters.”

 

Evelyn looked over her shoulder as Alistair joined her on the plate. “Finally,” she said, feeling drunk on the atmosphere.

 

“Why? You getting tired?” He drew his sword.

 

“Try to keep up, your Majesty,” she beamed at him. Her eyes looked up at the King’s box. Bhelen was watching with interest, leaning forward in his throne, a tankard of ale in his hand. Cullen was leaning forward as well. He saw her looking at him and jerked his chin to the opposite doors.

 

Evelyn turned and saw the doors open, letting in two very young, petite dwarves. Evelyn and Alistair looked at the pair. They both had their hair braided into buns at their necks, both had nearly identical tattoos across their faces. Both were silent. They drew their weapons, twin daggers and a heavy battle axe. They saluted.

 

Evelyn and Alistair glanced at each other. They were child sized. Evelyn’s blade flared to life. Child sized or not, they were looking to stab her in the eyes and cut her in half. “Just like we discussed, your Majesty,” she said as Alistair got into his stance, shield and sword raised and ready.

 

“Right,” he said as she pulled a shield over him.

 

“The winner of this battle will be the Champion. Fight!”

 

Alistair charged. Evelyn drew up her sword, pulling lightning down on the two sisters. The one with the twin blades rounded Alistair in a wide arc, her feet moving at a blur as she came at Evelyn. Evelyn frost stepped away, hearing metal striking. Evelyn fired cold from the end of her sword. The spell hit the charging dwarf but still on she ran. Evelyn blocked a dagger with her sword, ducked the second and stepped back as the first dagger sliced across her breastplate. She slashed with her sword. The dwarf ducked expertly and cut at her legs. Evelyn felt the blades catch on her metal greaves. She knelt on the blade, pinning it to the ground. Then she slammed her elbow into the dwarf’s face.

 

Evelyn rolled out of the way,a  blade catching her cheek and cutting her. There was a whizzing in the air and Alistair cried out, falling to one knee. Evelyn saw the dwarf facing him raise her battle axe. Evelyn was suddenly beside Alistair. The blade hung in the air as the disruption field caught it. The sound of the crowd dulled to a distant roar drumming against the ears. “Someone shot me in the back of the leg!” Alistair grunted.

 

Evelyn slipped her hilt into her belt and put her hand to his wound, her hand flaring green as she healed him. A dagger entered the field, thrown right at her but hanging in frozen in the air. She swore. “Someone’s sabotaging the fight,” she said as her healing spell flared.

 

“New plan,” Alistair stood up. “Switch.”

 

“Right!” Evelyn drew her sword and dispelled the field. The roar of the crowd returned to full volume as Evelyn parried the axe strike. She saw the thrown dagger skitter off across the arena as Alistair smacked it away with his shield.

 

Evelyn fired an energy barrage at the sister with the huge axe, flashing lights blinding the dwarf. She stepped around, pulling rocks up around her foot from the broken fissures in the ground. She kicked at the sister ungracefully, but the rocks caught the dwarf in the stomach, sending her staggering backwards.

 

Evelyn didn’t wait. She fired out a blast of cold that caught the sister. She cried out then as something struck her shoulder. She ducked against the wall from which the dart was fired. The sister pulled free of the ice with inhuman strength and charged at Evelyn with her axe raised. “Watch out!” Evelyn shouted as another dart bounced off Alistair’s shield as the man fought the dagger-weilding sister.

 

Evelyn saw the axe above her and pulled another disruption bubble around her. The dwarf stood frozen, caught in her spell, but still moving with the sheer power of will. She had to win!

 

Evelyn slammed her foot into the ground, a fissure opening under the sister. Evelyn dispersed the field, sidestepped the axe swing and closed the fissure around the sister’s legs. The sister dropped the axe in silent surprise. Evelyn grabbed it and screamed, putting her weight behind the throw and tossing the heavy axe aside. She staggered from the weight and looked at the petite dwarf in silent admiration. She glanced at Alistair, who was standing over the unconcious form of the other sister.

 

Evelyn looked at the trapped sister. “Do you yeild?” she asked.

 

The dwarf grit her teeth, but nodded nonetheless.

 

“The Inquisitor and King Alisair are the Champions of this Proving!” The crowd erupted with cheers that seemed to threaten to bring the roof down. They chanted Evelyn and Alistair’s names. They had won the common people as well as the Proving. Evelyn knew how useful the support of the common dwarves was going to be. “Truly the Paragons have smiled upon us this day to grant us such a Proving that is exciting beyond measure! Such display of valour and magic, of camaraderie…”

 

Evelyn stopped listening. She walked up to Alistair as he bent to pick up a  small metal dart. She beamed at him and pocketed the dart. “Smile and wave, your Majesty,” she said, waving with her good hand. “We will discuss this later.”

 

Alistair smiled weakly and waved. “I get the feeling something is going to shoot me.”

 

“No,” Evelyn said, glancing at Cullen empty seat. “It won’t. Cullen’s got this under control.”

 

++++

 

“A dwarf, Commander!” Rylen said to Cullen as they raced down the empty hallways of the Proving Grounds. Everyone was watching Evelyn and Alistair. “Hooded - took off when Charter approached.”

 

“And Ankel?” Cullen asked.

 

“Also following.”

 

There was a scream ahead from around the turn of the hallway. Charter staggered backwards, bleeding from her side. Cullen drew his sword and rounded the hallway. “I’m fine,” Charter winced, sinking to the ground as she clutched her side. “Be careful!”

 

“With me!” he commanded Rylen. Cullen brought his shield up just in time as a sword slashed at him. Rylen parried the second blade. Cullen knocked the hooded dwarf back with his shield. The dwarf fell silently to the ground. Then the hallway exploded in a flash of white light. Cullen grit his teeth as the light burned his eyes through his eyelids and made his skin uncomfortably warm. He lowered his hands when the light faded. There was a strange heat on his skin. He blinked uncomfortably as the world swam into view. He saw Ankel then, dead on the ground. The hooded dwarf was gone from the hallway. Cullen swore and knelt beside Ankel. “See to Charter!” Cullen said. Rylen nodded and ran back to Charter.

 

Cullen looked down at the Captain of the Gray. The dwarf was dead, slashed across the throat, but there was no blood about. Such wounds he knew would leave blood everywhere. Ankel had not bled. He had died here in the hallway, chasing a dwarf who was shooting darts at Evelyn and Alistair. And now here he was, without a drop of blood in him.

 

Inquisition soldiers cam running up then. “About bloody time!” Cullen snapped, fury rising in him. “Get the Captain to our barracks infirmary now! Bring Charter with you. You four, follow me. Rylen!” Rylen looked up from Charter. “Send guards to the palace, I want Inquisition soldiers at  King Alistair and the Inquisitor’s quarters. I want those doors surrounded at all times - And board up those bloody windows.”

 

“Sir!” Rylen saluted.

 

“You four, with me.” Cullen said, as he strode back to the Proving Grounds. “It’s time to escort the Inquisitor and King back to the palace.” Ankel was dead and drained of blood - someone sabotaged the final round of the Provings. Were they aiming for Alistair or Evelyn? Cullen grit his teeth. He knew this was a bad idea.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. More comments helps me improve and motivates me to write more, knowing that there are people out there who enjoy my work :)


	8. The Keeper of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery of the Shaperate theft deepens with Dunharg's confession.

There was praise for Evelyn and Alistair after the Proving. Lots of praise. It seemed as if every noble dwarf wanted to shake their hands to congratulate them. But Cullen came to their rescue, excusing them as he cited their need to rest and tend their wounds.

 

Evelyn and Alistair followed him greatly. Four Inquisition soldiers surrounded them and they were escorted back to the palace. Evelyn looked at Cullen’s expression, his face like thunder. Charter and Ankel were nowhere to be seen. “Have you got the dart?” Cullen asked once they were out of the Proving Grounds. Evelyn drew it out of her pocket and handed it to Cullen. He took it.

 

“I need to go to the barracks,” Cullen said. “Rylen will escort you to the Palace. The physician will be along shortly.”

 

“I can manage till he gets there,” Evelyn said. Cullen nodded at her and headed off, his expression grim and his eyes hard as stone. Rylen beckoned for them to proceed.

 

“What happened, Rylen?” Evelyn asked as they made their way to the Palace.

 

“Warden Ankel has been killed,” Rylen said quietly.

 

“What?” Alistair exclaimed.

 

“The one shooting you injured Agent Charter and killed Warden Ankel,” said Rylen. “Then he vanished. He had some sort of alchemical potion that flashed bright light.”

 

Evelyn frowned. “The Commander’s gone to investigate, I presume?”

 

“Yes,” Rylen replied.

 

They arrived in their quarters in the palace. Inquisition soldiers were boarding up the window in Evelyn’s room, they were already hammering the last board into place. “May I suggest that you both stay here, Inquisitor, your Highness?”

 

“Of course,” Evelyn said as she began to take off her leather robes. Alistair sank down onto a chair and leaned his sword and shield against the wall before gingerly slipping off the boot of his injured leg.

 

Rylen moved to check the boards as the soldiers left the room. “Secure,” he reported, saluting to Evelyn. “We will be outside, Inquisitor.”

 

“Rylen,” Evelyn said as he was about to shut the door. “Thank you. For the scouts that night, I mean.” She smiled wryly. “Even if I gave you an express order not to, it eased things a little between the Commander and I.”

 

Rylen looked slightly guilty. “Er, you’re welcome Inquisitor.”

 

Her expression darkened then, the shadows of the magma lights catching her face as she pulled the leather robe from her shoulders. “Still, don’t let it become a habit,” she said quietly, her blue eyes glinting like the lights of a forge.

 

Rylen saluted crisply. “Yes Inquisitor!” he snapped to attention.

 

“Thank you,” Evelyn beamed brightly at him. “You’re dismissed.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Rylen muttered as he shut the door.

 

Evelyn smiled faintly and turned to Alistair. “How’s the wound?” she asked, kneeling down to check his knee.

 

“It’s stinging,” he said as she leaned down to look behind his knee.

 

“Lay down on the bed,” she said.

 

Alistair stared at her. “Pardon?” he asked in a small voice.

 

“Now you’ve gone and made it uncomfortable,” Evelyn blushed slightly. “Just lay down on the bed, Alistair! Unless you’d prefer I lay down under your leg to check your wound.”

 

“No, no, the bed is fine,” he muttered.

 

He limped slightly as he headed to the bed and crawled onto it.

 

“Face down, if you please,” Evelyn said primly.

 

“Maker’s breath, there has to be an easier way,” Alistair muttered, blushing to the roots of his hair as he lay face down on the bed. He was on her pillow and he blushed deeper as she sat down next to him.

 

“I could knock you out,” Evelyn said, her hand lifting the leather of his breeches over the wound. She winced slightly at the sight of it. Though the flesh was closed, it was raw, an open wound in the shape of the dart. The dart had grazed him, not penetrated. Had it done so, Evelyn suspected it would have severed tendons.

 

“How is knocking me out easier?” Alistair asked.

 

“You wouldn’t be talking to me while I’m trying to concentrate, for one,” Evelyn chided, tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

“Point. Taken.” Alistair fell silent.

 

She tsked and moved herself to sit between Alistair’s legs, his wounded leg resting on her lap, propped up with her feet on the floor. She felt him shift awkwardly, trying to make the situation less awkward and failing. “Stop being a baby,” she scolded and ignored his muttered reply.

 

She closed her eyes and held her hand over the wound. She let the healing magic pour into the wound, her mind calm. Healing felt different from primal magic. Healing came from a place of peace, where quiet thoughts soothed the soul and shaped the world around her. She let her mind meditate as she healed him. Her thoughts turned to Sam, as they so often did when she was not utterly distracted by mad politics. She wondered how he was getting on, if he missed her. He was so big for a baby. She smiled faintly at the thought of him walking instead of crawling, of Cullen training him to fight. She knew that would be a given. She looked down at the wound. It was no longer so raw, but already closing, scar tissue crisscrossing the exposed flesh.

 

Alistair was watching her over his shoulder. “What were you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

 

“Sam,” she chuckled softly.

 

Alistair smiled at her. “I thought so,” he murmured and lay back down on the pillow, tucking his arms under it to rest his head. “You’re fortunate to have him. He’s a sweet child.”

 

“Maybe we should visit more often,” she smiled. “He’d like having the King of Ferelden for a godfather.”

 

Alistair chuckled. “I’m the worst choice for a godfather. I’m not all that pious.”

 

“You don’t need to be pious,” she said. “You just need to be a good man. Isn’t that what the Maker intended for all of us to be? You’d be a good example for him. You and Sol.”

 

Alistair was quiet. “I’d like that,” he murmured softly. “But please talk with Cullen before you do this.”

 

“I will,” she replied. “Regardless, Uncle Alie’s been getting him lovely gifts, Sam should go to Denerim to say his thanks in person.”

 

Alistair chuckled warmly at that. She turned her attention back to the wound and called to mind Sam once more as the spell flowed from her hand like water.

 

It was a while later when she heard the door open. “Hello Cullen,” she said calmly, hearing the familiar sound of his armour. Alistair moved his leg off her and hissed as the wound opened. “Stop it, you buffoon,” she scolded without thought and pulled his leg back.

 

“Madam, I am the King of Ferelden!”

 

“Lying arse up on a lady’s bed too,” Evelyn said, pouring her magic into the wound to stop the bleeding. “Keep still, or you’ll open it up.”

 

“The physician is here,” Cullen said, his voice tightly controlled, as an Inquisition physician entered, donned in the uniform of a soldier.

 

Evelyn gently moved Alistair’s leg off her thighs. “Have your wounds been tended to, Inquisitor?” asked the physician.

 

“Don’t worry, they’re just scratches. See to the King.”

 

The physician nodded and knelt down beside the bed. His hands glowed then, a more powerful healing spell.

 

“We had a spirit healer?” she asked Cullen.

 

“We’ve got a few,” he replied. He reached up and wiped the dried blood from her cheek. Evelyn winced. “You should heal that.”

 

She nodded and set her hand to her face as she sat down by the fire. “Rylen tells me Ankel is dead and Charter is wounded,” Evelyn said, crossing her legs as she looked up at Cullen.

 

“That’s correct,” Cullen said, sitting opposite her. “Ankel’s dead without a drop of blood in his body.”

 

“What?” Alistair said from the bed. “All his blood? How?”

 

“We do not know,” Cullen replied. “We came across him dead on the floor and the dwarf firing darts at you leaning over him.”

 

Alistair propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Cullen. “And what was this dwarf like?” he asked intently.

 

“Hooded, cloaked, didn’t smell too good,” Cullen replied.

 

“Did she speak?”

 

“Why does that matter?” Evelyn asked.

 

“I do not know if it was a she,” Cullen replied. “But no, she did not speak.”

 

Alistair swore. “Smelled bad, you say?” he asked. “You, Commander, may have just met Utha.”

 

“Who’s Utha?” Evelyn asked.

 

“An ally of the Architect,” Alistair grinned cynically. “You know how there was Corypheus? Ancient magister and darkspawn combined? Surprise! There’s another one!”

 

“Another ancient magister darkspawn?” Evelyn exclaimed.

 

“Solona faced him," said Alistair. "He was behind the Scourge of Amaranthine, when darkspawn attacked the city and the keep. But he’s nothing like Corypheus. While Cory tried to destroy the world. The Architect wishes to build a new one - where darkspawn are freed from the Song of the Old Gods and live in peace with humans.”

 

Evelyn felt her heart thrumming in her ears as the news weighed down on her. “So another mad monster,” she said. “Does he have an ancient elven orb of unspeakable power?”

 

“Not since Sol last met him over ten years ago,” Alistair replied. “If he’s behind this-”

 

“We don’t know that,” Cullen interrupted. “I don’t know if it’s this Utha. All I know is that someone today wanted you to lose the fight publicly.” Alistair sat up in bed, the physician coming to Evelyn then. Evelyn shut her eyes as the physician lay a glowing palm to her cheek. It was the work of mere seconds to close the graze there. The physician bowed and left as Evelyn murmured her thanks.

 

Alistair sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry, Alistair, but we really shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Cullen said. “The saboteur could just have easily come from Bhelen or Bemot or anyone in Orzammar. We’re not universally loved. And Bhelen would happily see us fail at the Provings so we would have to pay those reparations. The man seeks to fleece Ferelden if he can.”

 

“Although we have a suspect,” Evelyn said. “This Architect. We must keep him in mind.”

 

Cullen held up the metal dart, the thing glinting in the light of the magma. “This is not even poisoned. It’s barbed, however. It’s meant to incapacitate but not kill.”

 

Evelyn took the dart, thankful for her armour that blocked most of the blow. She suspected that it was aimed for Alistair, however. She looked at the king as he sat up, his leg healed. “We have to find Solona,” she said quietly.

 

Alistair looked at her, his hazel eyes hard as if he didn’t dare to hope. Evelyn looked down at the dart. “War or not, reparations or not, we have to talk to her. I get the feeling someone is playing us for fools.” She turned the barbed dart in her hand. “Bhelen is happily taking advantage of this but-” She stopped, seeing the light reflecting off the barb. She stood up and walked to the light from the magma in the wall. She stared down at the dart and then ran to her chest. She drew out the map and unrolled it on the table as Alistair and Cullen watched her. She leaned over the map, the dart clasped in her fingers and started to laugh.

 

“This is no sabotage,” she grinned at Alistair and Cullen. “This is an invitation.” They joined her, curiosity in their eyes. “Look under the barbs,” she said, handing them the dart. They brought it to the light and stared at it as Evelyn leaned on the table. A moment later, Cullen left Alistair by the light and grabbed the map from the table to rejoin him. Evelyn slightly suspected that their eyes weren’t all they used to be.

 

“Subtle,” Alistair said, looking at Evelyn. “The Cadash crest on the dart.”

 

“Of course, we can’t ignore this,” Cullen said. He raised a finger to Evelyn just as she opened her mouth. “But! We don’t have to go personally. We do have Inquisition forces with us.”

 

Evelyn looked at Alistair.

 

“I don’t want to say anything,” Alistair said, giving her back the dart and holding up his hands. “I have… my own wishes. But this is the Inquisition’s Inquiry.” She saw him sigh and run his hand through his hair in frustration, stepping away from the discussion.

 

She looked down at the dart, a frown on her face. She bit her thumbnail in thought. Cullen pulled her hand from her mouth. She tsked in irritation. She should not be hasty. She should think things through. She needed information. “Tomorrow we summon Leliana,” she said quietly. “I have a feeling her help will be invaluable here - she’s better at this than the both of us.” She looked at Cullen. “And if we do have to go into the Deep Roads, then we’ll go. However, we’ll keep the Inquiry here in Orzammar for now.”

 

Cullen did not argue. She was still the Inquisitor. Since they married, he had become more insistent on certain issues, like missions that she undertook. However, though he might wish otherwise, circumstances had not allowed her to put down the mantle of Inquisitor. It was a responsibility she still had to bear. “King Alistair,” she said formally. “ We regret that you will not be able to assist us in the investigation tomorrow. But rest assured that we will keep you abreast of all developments.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, kings aren’t expected to get any work done anyway,” he muttered.

 

She looked down at the dart and then back at Alistair’s troubled eyes. She would save them all if she could.

 

++++

 

The following two days were busy. The meeting with Bhelen to officially sanction the Inquisition’s Inquiry took an entire day to draw up and another whole day to be ratified. By the time Evelyn had left the Assembly with Cullen in tow, it was already close to evening of the third day. The streets of the Diamond Quarter were bustling with the market. There were more than a few glances thrown at her and Cullen with Rylen and Charter in tow. Evelyn handed Charter the scroll tube bearing their permission to access the Shaperate.

 

“Now, we find that dwarf,” Evelyn said as they made their way through the market. “Charter, and Rylen, you’re being promoted.”

 

“Oh?” Rylen blinked.

 

“You’re my personal aides,” Evelyn smiled over her shoulder at him, her robes flaring as she walked.

 

“Oh. So not an actual promotion then?” Rylen asked, slightly disappointed.

 

“Keep talking and you’ll be promoted to a swift afterlife in the bosom of the Maker,” Charter warned Rylen as Cullen chortled.

 

“No hazard pay can cover the things you say, Rylen,” Cullen said.

 

Rylen sighed mournfully.

 

They came to the shaperate doors where the guard looked up at Evelyn with his arms crossed. “Open up, by order of the Inquisition,” Evelyn said evenly. The guard hesitated and then fried under her cold glare. “Are you impeding the Inquisition and crossing your King?” she asked frost and the promise of pain dripping from her words.

 

The guard looked worried and decided that his own hazard pay did not cover this. He opened the door for them. Evelyn stepped inside with the others in tow. She saw a dwarf look up at her from one of the many shelves that lined the walls of the Shaperate. “I wish to speak to Shaper Dunharg,” she said. “Summon him to the Vault.”

 

“Y-yes, Inquisitor,” said the dwarf, who ran off into the depths of the Shaperate. Evelyn led the way down to the Vault, Cullen’s armour clinking as he descended the stairs. The two guards at the Vault straightened and raised their axes at the sight of her. She felt Cullen tense and touched her hand to his breastplate to still him. Inside the vault, Shapers were pausing in their work to look at them with surprise.

 

“My Lady!” she heard behind her. Right on cue.

 

“Greetings, Shaper Dunharg,” she said over her shoulder as the Shaper ran down the stairs, waving his arms, his glasses glinting.  

 

“Lady Inquisitor, I must protest! Permission has not been given-”

 

“I think you’ll find that it has been,” she said. Charter handed him the scroll tube.

 

Dunharg took it and read the scroll inside. He frowned. “This- I was not informed,” he said.

 

“I doubt the King would need to inform you of every decision he makes,” she said cooly. “Nevertheless, we require your assistance, good Shaper.”

 

Dunharg hesitated and then sighed heavily. He handed the scroll back to Charter. “By all means, Lady Inquisitor. We have no choice but to acquiesce to your request.”

 

“Perhaps we should belay the flowery vocabulary, good Shaper,” she smiled. “My aides are plain-spoken people. Simple words would expedite matters greatly.”

 

“I shall endeavour to-” Dunharg began and stopped. “I mean, yes, I will try.” He looked pained to say that.

 

“Send away the guards, good Shaper,” she said then. “And the Shapers within. We wish to investigate the scene of the alleged crime.”

 

“Alleged?” Dunharg asked.

 

“Just do it,” she sighed.

 

Evelyn watched the dwarf somewhat unwillingly give orders as she held the stump of her arm.

 

“Rylen, Charter,” she said quietly to them. “Both of you have good eyes and exceptional training and skill. You are to look around. I want to know exactly when this theft took place and by what means.”

 

They nodded.

 

She then looked up at Cullen, who nodded slightly in silent acknowledgement.

 

The Shapers and Guards filed past them, leaving the area. “Now, Shaper Dunharg,” she said primly as she walked into the Vault, Dunharg following behind her with a worried look on his face. “Let’s talk about this vault, shall we?”

 

Charter and Rylen fanned out around the room.

 

“Whatever my lady wishes,” Dunharg said, licking his lips as he stood by her with Cullen slightly adjacent to him. “I was not expecting-”

 

“Why, Dunharg? Why are you so worried? We only look for information. To start with, can you tell us when this theft happened?”

 

“As I said, about a month ago.”

 

“Why then has nothing been cleared up? Not even the doors replaced?”

 

“Madam, dwarven doors don’t grow from the stone itself, they are finely crafted!”

 

“So your new vault door…”

 

“Is in the works!”

 

“I see,” Evelyn beamed. “Are all doors here in the shaperate so difficult to replace?”

 

“Our doors are finely crafted by the finest smiths!”

 

“Good to know. Now about this Cadash Thaig, I need to know everything about it, if you please.”

 

“Cadash Thaig was destroyed by the dwarves of Kal Sharok,” said Dunharg, his voice taking on the tone of a lecturer. “They discovered that the Thaig was giving shelter to elves fleeing Arlathan. The dwarves of Kal Sharok had an alliance with the Imperium. To protect that alliance, they purged the thaig of all the elves and destroyed it. Eventually, it was repopulated and deemed Cadash. The House of Cadash was a warrior house. The thaig fell to the Darkspawn during the second Blight.”

 

“A thaig full of elves?” Evelyn blinked. “How interesting. I take it the house of Cadash is no more?”

 

“They are surfacer dwarves now, and so have no caste,” Dunharg replied.

 

“And the thaig now?”

 

“A ruin - abandoned. It is no more.”

 

“And yet the Hero of Ferelden has been there.”

 

“At her own folly, the darkspawn have claimed the thaig.”

 

Evelyn frowned. “Now for my next question,” she said, holding the stump of her arm. “Who has not shown up to work lately?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Someone let in the thief, Shaper Dunharg.”

 

Dunharg’s eyes widened slightly and he licked his lips again. “I don’t know what you-”

 

“You said doors took ages to repair and replace. Yet the doors at the entrance of the Shaperate are perfectly fine.”

 

“T-they were hastily replaced!” Dunharg squeaked.

 

Cullen’s hand landed on the Shaper’s shoulder, his face dark as a tempest, his honeyed eyes like steel. Dunharg quivered in Cullen’s hold. “Shaper Dunharg,” Evelyn said, her voice dripping with kindness. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hide anything. We’re trying to help Orzammar, and we’ll have to no matter what. We cannot allow anyone to stand between Orzammar and peace with Ferelden.”

 

“Truly? The doors were replaced?” Cullen growled as Dunharg quavered under his glare.

 

“Commander, stay your hand,” Evelyn said soothingly laying her hand on Cullen’s arm. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to the good Shaper. It’s not his fault that he’s in this situation, after all. He doesn’t deserve this.”

 

“By the stone, ain’t that the truth!” Dunharg whimpered, all trace of his eloquent speech now gone. “I just wanted a quiet life out of Dust Town - and I like books. I didn’t ask to play politics and tell lies - I am a Shaper! The keeper of memories cannot lie!”

 

Cullen let go of the dwarf’s shoulder. Dunharg stood there quivering .

 

“Then tell us everything,” Evelyn said quietly. “We’re trying to save Orzammar’s memories.”

 

“I was the one who discovered the theft, the doors thrown open and the scrolls missing. It was only two weeks ago, not a month. The guards said they saw a human woman - the Queen had just come through Orzammar. They assumed it was her, who else could break open the doors like this?”

 

Practically anyone gifted in magic or alchemy, Evelyn thought to herself. “Go on,” she said.

 

“I- I told the Palace. Then I was told to tell you - all those things. About the troops, about everything. It wasn’t true, no search parties were sent. All I know is that she left Orzammar with Kardol of the Legion of the Dead around the time of the theft!”

 

Evelyn frowned, crossing her arms. “So we were lied to about that.”

 

“I’m so sorry!”

 

“It’s not your fault, you did it under duress.” She bit her thumbnail, looking ahead in thought. “So what about the Thaig?”

 

“No, that much is true - they took maps to the Cadash Thaig, among others. And an ancient artificer’s manual on keys.”

 

“All from the vault?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Who let in the thief?” Cullen asked, making Dunharg flinch. Evelyn felt sorry for the dwarf.

 

“What?” Dunharg squeaked.

 

“Someone must have let the thief in. These doors are ripped open but the main ones are intact and untouched. They must also have been guarded at the time,” Cullen said.

 

Dunharg hung his head. “Corporal Corbin was killed, found dead inside the doors.”

 

“And no one else has vanished from work?”

 

“No, just Corbin. But you didn’t hear it from me!” Dunharg held his head in fear. “Vortag is going to kill me!”

 

Evelyn held the stump of her arm.

 

“Follow Captain Rylen and Charter,” she said. “Surrender any information on the Thaigs taken to her. Rylen will then escort you to the Inquisition Barracks. We will protect you, if you wish.” She smiled at him. “We also have need of skilled historians and scribes in the Inquisition. If you wish, our doors are always open to you.”

 

Dunharg looked up at her with surprise in his dark eyes. He glanced nervously at Cullen, who was smiling slightly at Dunharg. Evelyn chuckled. “Trust me, he’s nicer once you get to know him,” she smiled at Dunharg.

 

Rylen and Charter came to Dunharg. “Report to us later,” Cullen said to them both as Dunharg was escorted from the vault.

 

Evelyn turned and entered the vault. She paused, pulling in the feeling of the Veil around her. She could feel the remnants of old magic - powerful magic. So the one who did this was a mage after all. Whether it was indeed the Queen was another question. “So, we have to go to the Deep Roads after all,” she said suddenly. She punched a fist in the air. “Yes! I’ve been waiting for this!”

 

Cullen blinked. He sighed as Evelyn practically burned with excitement. “Maker’s breath, Inquisitor. And why do you have to go - besides your foolhardy reckless excitement?”

 

“It’s because of the Veil,’ Evelyn said grandly, letting the 'foolhardy' pass this time as she was too excited. “It’s pulled here, practically tearing at the edges. Powerful magic. We have to find the Queen. And we were invited, after all - remember the dart?”

 

He glared at her, his expression unreadable. “And… you’re going to go because?”

 

Evelyn held the stump of her arm. “Who else could? With the powerful magic here, I have to go since I am a mage. I need information and people to come back alive. It’s the most efficient if I went.”

 

“Really?” Cullen glared at her. “There’s no other reason? Not like the fact you’re just itching to go like a child to the candy shop?”

 

“I am being entirely professional here,” she grinned at him. “I’m just happy that my professional duties coincide with my own personal wishes. This is the same feeling you get when you face dragons, Cullen - heady, heady excitement and fear and rolled into one, firing you on.”

 

Cullen smiled faintly and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I say I was supposed to physically hold you back from assaulting the Deep Roads?”

 

“You’re coming with me!” Evelyn grinned and pointed a finger right at him.

 

“Yes, well, that’s surprising,” Cullen drawled sarcastically, folding his arms.

 

Evelyn waited. Cullen just watched her evenly, his expression one of resignation.

 

She frowned. “Nothing?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not going to stop me?”

 

“Why do you always expect me to?”

 

Evelyn lowered her finger, pouting slightly. “We haven’t yelled at each other in days.”

 

“Stop saying that like it’s a bad thing,” Cullen sighed and walked up to her in the vault. “I agree with you. It would be best if you went. We can get some back up from the Wardens and the Inquisition soldiers. At least this time you’re not going alone.”

 

He frowned and looked around. “You’re right the Veil is thin in here. You can feel it.”

 

Evelyn wasn’t sure how she felt about this suddenly-agreeable Cullen. “Are you going to pull some sneaky resignation ploy thing?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing him.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cullen said loftily.

 

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got my eye on you, Commander, you’re up to something, I’m sure of it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN! Mystery! How do you like the chapter? Feed the author comments!


	9. Painful Puns and Pants-less Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana arrives to take over as head of the Inquiry in Orzammar, as Evelyn and Cullen prepare to go into the Deep Roads to find the Queen. However, it seems as if the Tainted have brought the party to them.

Alistair sat in Evelyn and Cullen’s chambers, speaking softly with Evelyn while Cullen took the time to buff some scratches off his armour as he sat in the middle of the floor. The King often spent time in their room when the day wound down in the evening. Cullen got the impression that perhaps Alistair was lonely, needing someone to talk to. Alistair and Evelyn actually got along famously. Their jokes were horribly off colour, of course, and they had begun to bond over cheese and wine. Cullen sighed. It made him slightly irritated in an irrational way, but no, he wasn’t jealous, the were just friends. He refused to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that he sometimes felt significantly unwound when Evelyn spoke with certain sorts of men.

 

He turned his mind to the Deep Roads. The expeditions into the Deep Roads were big affairs. He was running Rylen and Charter ragged in preparation. He wished Ankel had not been killed. It was a shame. They lost a good man who would have proven invaluable in the Deep Roads. Now the most senior Warden in Ferelden, besides Solona, was sitting opposite his his wife making some horrible cheese-related pun. Cullen wasn’t really listening. “Cullen!” Alistair called. Cullen looked up. Evelyn was sitting opposite Alistair with her hand over her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

 

“What?” Cullen said, fearing where this might go - someplace dark and full of agony, no doubt.

 

“What cheese can be used to soothe a savage bear?”

 

Cullen braced himself, drawing a breath over the sound of Evelyn’s stiffled laughter. “Really, Alistair?” he muttered.

 

“A camembert!” Alistair grinned as Evelyn burst into laughter.

 

Cullen made a disgusted noise shuddered, smiling even as he winced. “Andraste’s mercy, Alistair Theirin, that was bloody horrible,” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

“I know!” Alistair grinned. “I know loads more!”

 

“No…”

 

“How do you make sheep’s cheese?”

 

“Please stop.”

 

“Ewe’s milk!” Alistair ducked the scouring pad thrown at his head. Evelyn leaned over her chair, giggling through her hand, red in the face from laughter.

 

“You once took blows from two dragons that I know of - did you get hit in the head too hard?” Cullen asked, grinning despite himself. Damn Alistair and his infectious grin.

 

“Three dragons, actually, but I’m totally fine!” Alistair said. “Okay one more-”

 

“I’m going to hit you if you do.”

 

“No you won’t,” Alistair said, picking up the scouring pad and tossing it back to him. Cullen caught it. “What happened after the explosion in a cheese shop?”

 

Cullen shook his head, bracing himself.

 

“De brie was everywhere.”

 

Evelyn’s laughter burst from her lips as she leaned over the armrest of her chair.

 

Cullen buried his face in his hand and laughed despite himself. “I don’t know what’s worse,” he laughed into his hand. “The fact that you made that joke or the fact that the woman I married is laughing that hard at it.”

 

“Hey!” Evelyn stopped laughing.

 

“Told you I could make him laugh,” Alistair grinned. Evelyn laughed and tossed Alistair a gold piece.

 

“Maker’s breath, you both,” Cullen chuckled. “Was I but a pawn in your game?”

 

“Never a pawn, my love,” Evelyn grinned. She leaned her elbow on the armrest and looked at him impishly. “You’re my number one Cullenary delight.”

 

“Maker!” Cullen blushed and laughed.

 

“See, that’s what happens when you bring Cullen off to foreign lands. You get Cullen-ized.”

 

“Once they stick a flagpole in you, it’s too late. You’re a Culleny.”

 

“Stop, for pity’s sake!” Cullen groaned despite the grin, blushing to the roots of his hair.

 

“Ooh, does that make me a Cullen-ial?”

 

“I’m going to lay down here in pain, excuse me,” Cullen moved to curl up on the floor.

 

“We really should cut back on the puns,” Alistair said.

 

“Shall we try Cullen’ them down?” Evelyn grinned.

 

“Argh,” Cullen said as Evelyn and Alistair high-fived and near collapsed with laughter.

 

There was a tap on the door. Cullen saw Leliana walk in, donned in her simple leathers and doublet that she wore to travel. “Maker’s breath! What is going on here?” she asked, seeing Cullen curled on the floor and Alistair and Evelyn beside themselves with laughter.

 

“Leliana!” Alistair greeted her warmly.

 

“Save me,” Cullen groaned.

 

“We were trying to in-cull-cate a sense of humour in Cully Wully,” Evelyn grinned at Leliana.

 

“Argh,” Cullen said from the ground.

 

Leliana tittered as she shut the door behind her. “Well, I can see that’s going well. Once he’s done writhing in pain, maybe he might find that funny.”

 

Evelyn laughed and went to Cullen, drawing him up and giving him a kiss.

 

“Do I really have no sense of humour?” he asked her, feeling a little embarrassed about being kissed in front of an audience.

 

“You make me laugh all the time,” she grinned. Then she shrugged. “Or maybe I’m laughing with you because I’m trying to get into your pants.”

 

“Evie!” Cullen exclaimed, feeling the heat of the blush spreading from his cheeks to his chest.

 

“She’s good,” Alistair noted. “Sit down, Lels. May I just say you’re looking amazing for three days hard ride through the mountains.”

Evelyn turned from Cullen, subtly pinching his bottom as she went. Cullen tried his hardest to keep a straight face. He feared more puns if he laughed.

“How was your trip?” Evelyn asked as Cullen followed her to join Leliana in the sitting area before the magma hearth. It was pleasantly warm with the windows boarded up. Cullen had taken to wearing simple tunics and breeches. He sank in a chair.

“It was surprisingly quiet,” Leliana replied. “Then again, I was travelling alone.”

“You know, for a woman to have a quiet trip through the mountains travelling alone, that’s actually really surprising,” Alistair said.

Evelyn went to the sideboard and poured four cups of Hirol’s Lava Burst from the bottles of dwarven drinks Bhelen had gifted them.

“Maybe I’m just such an insignificant little woman they all left me alone,” Leliana smiled, pulling off her gloves in the warmth.

“Really? Right, innocent little Chantry Sister?” Alistair grinned at her. “Is that still a thing you’re doing?”

“Absolutely!” Leliana chuckled. She looked at Evelyn seriously then. “I took some soundings from the streets of Orzammar, Evelyn. You’ve been busy.” Evelyn handed her and Alistair a cup of Lava Burst each, only then did Evelyn sit down in her chair. “Did you really trounce your opponents at the Proving?”

“That’s not the word I would use,” Evelyn said. “They got in some good hits.”

“We’re going to have to work on your defence techniques, Eve,” Cullen said.

“You can drill me later,” Evelyn replied breezily. Alistair sputtered into his cup and coughed as his face flamed red.

“Anyway,” Cullen quickly, ignoring Alistair and feeling a heat in his cheeks which had nothing to do with the fiery drink. “Yes, they did defeat their opponents, despite the saboteurs.”

“Ah, so the reports were accurate,” Leliana said. “I heard that someone was firing on you in the Arena. There’s a lot I will need to be briefed on.”

“Drink up then,” Alistair said, wiping the sputtered drink off his chin with the back of his hand. “This is going to be a long talk.”

They spoke and the hours passed as they updated Leliana on their findings thus far. The bottle of Hirol’s Lava Burst gradually depleted as they sipped into the night. “We do have enough to continue our Inquiry here,” Leliana said calmly. She looked at Evelyn. “I presume you’re going into the deep to find Sol?”

“We have to,” Evelyn said.

“We will need Wardens,” Cullen told her.

“We have them,” Evelyn waved her hand dismissively.

“But with no leader,” Leliana pointed out. Cullen merely nodded, watching Evelyn expectantly.

“Then we’ll have to promote someone-” Evelyn began.

“We already have the most senior Gray Warden in Ferelden here,” said Leliana.

“Senior?” Alistair pouted slightly. “I’m not that old, am I?”

“He’s not coming,” Evelyn snapped.

“Why not?” Alistair asked.

“You’re the King?”

“And also a Warden,” Alistair pointed out. “Last I checked, you’re also sorely missing a leader for your contingent of Wardens, aren’t you?”

“He would be best to accompany you,” Leliana pointed out placatingly. “Think about it. He has been in the Deep Roads, he has been to that Thaig before, he is able to command the respect of the Wardens as a Veteran of the Fifth Blight and one of those who stood with the Hero of Ferelden to slay the archdemon.”

Alistair stared at Evelyn and shrugged. Cullen carefully tried not to smirk. Evelyn made decisions without thinking things through, now she was saddled with dragging the King through the Deep Roads. She suddenly turned to glare at Cullen. “That’s your insufferably innocent face, isn’t it?” Evelyn asked softly.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean, love,” Cullen said mildly, sipping his drink.

Evelyn bit her thumb. Best to leave it in her mouth for now as she began to realize she’d dragged herself into a corner. Cullen knew the benefits of winning gracefully. Winning gracefully allowed the game of influence between them to continue. Still, despite the smugness, he was well aware that having Alistair along was going to make the expedition difficult, but his presence was practically necessary with Ankel now dead.

Evelyn seemed to reach this conclusion as well. “As long as we all remember who’s in charge,” Evelyn said evenly. “I’m not pleased, but I can see the need for you to come along, Alistair. But if I find Sol and have to tell her that you died on the way, I’ll bring you back from the Fade just so I can kill you myself.”

“Concern and a death threat in the same breath?” Alistair smirked slightly, sipping his drink. “I’m very impressed.”

“I am serious,” she said hotly. “I don’t want you to take any risks if you don’t have to.”

Now, where have I heard that before, Cullen wondered. Oh yes, I said it myself. To her.

“Would I do anything so foolhardy?” Alistair said. “I wasn’t the one punching in the ground while standing practically on top of an ogre climbing out of a pit.”

“That was one time,” Evelyn’s cheeks coloured slightly. “Stop smirking, Cullen.”

“Was I?” Cullen blinked, carefully arranging his face into a look of innocence. “I was sincerely trying not to.”

Evelyn shot him a disgusted glance. “Well, that settles it. No wonder Cullen was so easy to convince. You knew we would have to bring Alistair all along, didn’t you?”

Cullen sipped his drink and looked away. He liked being right. Let’s see how Evelyn felt having to monitor someone for a change.

“Don’t worry,” Leliana smiled at Evelyn. “Alistair knows the route and the Deep Roads. I’ll handle the investigation here while you find Solona and bring her back.”

Alistair glanced at Leliana, a slight grateful smile on his face.

Leliana returned the smile. “Don’t worry, I know she’s alive. Nothing short of the Maker himself could stop her.”

“That’s why I married her,” Alistair grinned. “Behind every successful man is a woman telling him what to do - or yelling at him to stop being an ass.”

Evelyn laughed. “Cullen fills that role, really. Or he’s planning some sneaky trick to make me realize the folly of my ways,” Evelyn nudged his leg with her foot. “Don’t you, Cullen?”

Leliana tittered. “You both do yell a lot,” she said. “Sometimes, half of Skyhold can hear you.”

“Do you really want to know the reason why the Inquisitor enjoys her arguments?” Cullen asked, smirking at Evelyn as he shot her an eyebrow over the rim of hie glass.

“No, we do not,” Evelyn said primly. “But we should turn in. Now that Leliana is here, I’ll be able to rest easy knowing that the inquiry and the politics will be taken care of.”

“Right,” Alistair said, standing. “I’ll see you both bright and early tomorrow. Sort of. In a manner of speaking.”

“I’ll head to the barracks then,” Leliana smiled. “Rest well, you both.”

Cullen moved to gather their glasses when they’d gone. “You knew,” Evelyn said from her chair.

“Did I?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Cullen.”

Cullen chuckled. “You’d have known too if you took a minute to think,” he said, setting the used glasses on the sideboard.

He heard her sigh. “You’re probably right,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I suppose I didn’t think things through. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. I just… saw what must be done.”

“That’s all well and good,” he said, going over to kiss her cheek. “Now, you’ll have to do your darndest to make sure the King of Ferelden doesn’t fall down a pit or winds up as an Ogre’s lunch.” He started to unlace his tunic’s neck.  It was too warm to sleep in clothes. At least he was recovering from his cold here. He hadn’t had a headache in days.

She joined him at the bed as he neatly folded his tunic and set it across the back of the headboard. “You know,” she purred, coming up behind him as he had half-expected her to do. She stepped in front of him, drawing her hand over his pecs, her fingers tracing the tiny bud of his nipple, sending shudders through his body down to his loins.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice heavy with growing desire as her fingers traced his torso, taking in every curve. They ran lightly over his abdomen, which quivered as she stopped at the top of his breeches.

“What?” Evelyn blinked and smiled archly at him, her eyes hooded. “I forgot what I was supposed to say.”

“Really,” he smirked. His hand cradled the back of her head, tilting her lips up to his as he kissed her. He felt her body press against his. Even after years, this passion of theirs had not waned. He felt her hand hold him close, her fingernails pressing slightly into his back. He secretly liked the feel of her raking her nails across his skin.

He parted her lips with his tongue, tasting her within. The slight musky hint of Lava Burst on her tongue was decadent. Every curve, every inch of her was his. He felt her moan, the sound of it travelling from her chest to his. He rolled his hips slightly, grinding his aching need into her. She slipped a hand between them, her fingers snaking into his breeches. He moaned as she stroked  him within, fingers slipping over the head, down his length, cupping him brazenly. His fingers closed in her hair, tilting her neck back as he claimed the column of her neck with his lips, making her gasp slightly. He slipped her hand under her tunic, shamelessly taking a breast in his hand. He knew what she wanted as he heard her mewl, his fingers teasing the peaks of her breast, his teeth nipping her earlobe.

“Cullen,” she breathed, her voice like music, saying his name like a chant of desire. Her eyes were closed, her her cheeks flushed and hot with need. “Maker, you are more intoxicating than any drink I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled a low throaty sound as he lowered her to the bed, his knee drawing her legs apart. “Good to know,” he murmured as he leaned down to claim her.

++++

It was later in the night, if it was night, when they were both spent and laying curled in each other’s arms, that the attack came. The boarded up window blasted open with a mixture of fire and acid. Cullen was shaken awake, his skin searing for a moment as he grabbed Evelyn, shielding her with his body. Then the sound dimmed as her barrier sprung up around them both. She wrapped her arms around him. Cullen grabbed his tunic from the headboard just as he felt the horrible jolting lurch that threatened to make him throw up. Cold wrapped around them as they were carried off the bed and across the floor. Cullen felt his elbows and shoulders graze the ground as they came to an unceremonious stop against the wall of the window.

“Put it on!” Cullen said, thrusting the tunic into Evelyn’s hands.

“Really, Cullen?” Evelyn exclaimed as behind them another blast took out the sideboard. Alcohol spilled and caught ablaze. Against the wall, Evelyn pulled on the tunic as Cullen looked for his sword, strewn across the room by the chests on the other side of the window. There was another explosion from outside their door. With his heart thrumming in his ears, Cullen knew exactly where that came from.

“I’ll cover you!” Evelyn said. Cullen nodded, feeling her barrier envelope his naked form like a second skin.

She sprang up before the window, arm outstretched as her barrier flared green, fire exploding as it smashed against the barrier, which flickered green with the flames that flared around the cusp of the barrier. Cullen ducked behind her and out of range of the window. He ran for his sword and shield.

She ducked aside quickly when he was safe and leaned against the wall, spitting curses. Cullen’s hand tightened on the grip of his shield just as the door burst open and a foul stench wafted into the room, borne by the heat of the flames. Two dwarves in heavy plate and helmets levelled crossbows at them. Crossbow bolts whizzed in the air. Cullen raising his shield to deflect it. The other bolt hit Evelyn’s body, making the barrier flash green. She was royally pissed off and was already shaping the veil around her with her hand, drawing in the flames to her will. Then, his sword in his hand, Cullen charged the dwarf as the dwarf dropped the crossbow and drew his battle axe.

Stupid, Cullen thought. He parried the clumsy blow as the two dwarves were clustered in the doorway. The axe hit the ground and sparked across the tiles, throwing the dwarf off balance. He crashed into his comrade. Cullen brought his shield into the gap between the dwarf’s helmet and  gorget. The dwarf choked on blood and fell back, not uttering a peep despite spitting blood. Cullen’s shield caught another blow from a sword, the second dwarf trying to recover his footing.

“Duck!” Evelyn shouted.

Cullen rolled out of the way and shut his eyes as her spell flared, glowing incandescent and roaring in the ears with fire and fury.

The two dwarves fell dead, their armour glowing and pinging in the air. Cullen jumped over them, feeling the heat radiating from their armour.

There was a melee outside. The Inquisition and dwarven guards at their doors were engaged with a dozen silent dwarves. There was a gaping hole in the floor. Alistair’s door was ajar. Cullen grit his teeth, Evelyn had already frost stepped to the door, but jumped back when a headless dwarf came tumbling out of the room. Alistair emerged, swearing viciously, wearing only a loose tunic and breeches. Cullen ran up to Evelyn, a dwarf in leather leveling a stab to her back. Evelyn turned barely in time. Alistair’s sword caught the blow, deflecting it. Cullen buried his blade into the dwarf’s neck. The dwarf spat blood and fell dead in silence, sliding off Cullen’s blade with a sickening smear.

“Stay back!” Evelyn shouted at Alistair as she raised her hand to cast.

“Are you crazy?” Alistair shouted back as he sidestepped the swing of another dwarf who charged at him. He elbowed the dwarf in the face as the dwarf stumbled past him. Alistair sword severed the head from the dwarf’s body.

Cullen braced his shield, a similar armed dwarf charging through the guards and soldiers towards Evelyn. He moved with precision. His shield glanced against the dwarf’s wild charge, its corner pulling the dwarf’s shield aside. His sword snaked in the opening and caught the dwarf through his mail under his breastplate. Cullen pushed the dwarf aside as he heard sparks flaring from behind him.

“Get down!” Evelyn snarled.

“Inquisition, fall back!” Cullen barked sharply, his voice booming over the battle. The guards and the soldiers obeyed the voice of command without hesitation. Cullen stood by Evelyn’s side as her spell flared. The veil was pulled so hard Cullen felt his stomach lurch. The silent dwarves were pulled back to a cluster. One hung onto a dwarven guard. Alistair was there to cut the tainted dwarf down and pull the guard to safety.

Evelyn’s blast of lightning caught the cluster of tainted dwarves in a massive ball of electricity. Lightning arced across their armour, burning their faces as it flared across their skin. They burned without a sound. Cullen found their silent writhing eerie and extremely disconcerting.

They started to try to crawl from Evelyn’s grip, clawing at the ground towards her. Evelyn closed her hand into a fist and the spell flared a new. The bodies of the silent dwarves convulsed violently and they died, their boil-covered faces pulled back into horrible grins - white teeth glinted through black smoking skin.

Cullen lowered his shield, breathing hard. His sword arm was covered in blood to the elbow and his shield was no better. Evelyn lowered her arm, breathing hard, lighting fading from her fingertips.

Alistair sidled over to Cullen and tapped him on the shoulder. “You do realize you’re naked, don’t you?” he muttered.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Cullen grated from between clenched teeth as he blushed to the roots of his hair. He calmly placed his shield in front of him for modesty’s sake, his expression deeply annoyed even as inside he screamed in horror. He hadn’t even noticed that he was as naked as the day he was born. There were women among the Inquisition Soldiers! The first man to speak of this was fired!

More dwarven guards rounded the corner then. “Blood of the Ancestors!” Cullen recognized the voice. It was Georig Gavorn. He strode up to the hole in the ground. “What happened?”

“They attacked.” Evelyn held the stump of her arms, seemingly unashamed that she was only donned in her husband’s tunic which barely covered her rear and hung half off one shoulder. “General Gavorn - what is this? Do ghouls often tunnel up into your palace like this?”

“Inquisition!” Cullen snapped, realizing they were being stared at. “What are you waiting for? Get the wounded to the infirmary now! And send reinforcements!”

The soldiers saluted, jolted into movement. They started to pick up the wounded and carry them away.

Gavorn growled. “Guards - get this pile of nug shit out of here before we all catch the damn Blight!” The dwarven guards who were guarding the hallway saluted and began to cart away the charred corpses.

“Our room was attacked, General Gavorn,” Evelyn went on, setting her hand on her hip. “With magic.”

“And they tried to take me,” Alistair said. He jerked a blood-stained hand over his shoulder nonchalantly. “I think one’s skewered to my bed. Got a few dead in there.”

“Not bad,” Cullen muttered.

“There are only two mages in Orzammar, Inquisitor,” Gavorn said simply.

“If you’re suggesting what I think you are-” Alistair flared. Evelyn put her hand on his shoulder to still him. Alistair bit back his words.

“Perhaps it’s just as well we’re leaving in the morning, General,” she said coolly. “Though I believe that it might be best to check on your king?”

Gavorn coloured under his beard and swore. “To King Bhelen’s chambers!” he commanded and ran off with his soldiers in tow.

Evelyn snarled as Inquisition soldiers continued their work to convey the wounded and the dying to the barracks. She swore, spitting curses with fervour as if insulted by the very universe. Alistair looked impressed. “Inquisitor, if you’re done with your very eloquent speech - not that it isn’t terribly fascinating, mind you - I didn’t know you could do that to a man with a hot poker, by the way, but...” Alistair said then, cutting her off. “Maybe after you and the Commander put some breeches on, you’d both like to come on and see what’s in my room?” He pointed over his shoulder.

Cullen did not say a word. He turned to walk back to his room, stepping over dead dwarves in search of his pants.

Later, he and Evelyn stood in Alistair’s room. There was indeed a dwarf skewed to the bed with a pike through the belly. Three other dead dwarves lay on the floor around Alistair’s bed. The gaping soulless eyes of the dwarf on the bed stared at them. The dwarf twitched slightly. “Still alive?” Evelyn blinked.

“For now,” Alistair said. “Stomach wounds take ages to kill. I wouldn’t advise you touch him, though. I just wanted to show him to you.”

He pointed at the armour with his sword, which was of a dark green tint, a white emblem emblazoned on the breastplate. “Legion of the Dead,” he said. “This looks like a squadron that’s been tainted. He’s not even talking anymore. He’s just listening to the Calling.”

“That’s a very specific Call,” Cullen frowned as the dwarf clawed the bed, trying to weakly get to them. “Kidnap a king and kill the Inquisitor?”

“Exactly,” Alistair said. “The Calling would cause darkspawn and the tainted to attack indiscriminately. They don’t direct their attacks unless prompted to by…”

“By what?” Evelyn asked.

Alistair frowned, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “I’m thinking - that takes a while, you know,” he muttered. “Well, I can think three things that can direct tainted creatures like this - Archdemons, Emissaries and Magisters.”

“Could it be an Archdemon?” Cullen asked.

“No, they’re more of the kill-everything-in-sight kind of leader. Like the Inquisitor,” Alistair quipped. “Ow! I bruise easily!” he whined, rubbing his arm where she hit him.

“I’ll hit you harder, next time. And what Magisters do you mean, Alistair?” she asked him.

“Magisters as in like the Architect or Corypheus.”

“We keep coming back to Architect, don’t we?” Cullen said.

“That doesn’t mean it’s him. Besides, aren’t Emissaries mage darkspawn?” Evelyn asked.

“Most of them are,” Alistair replied.

“Could they have blown open my room with fire and nature magic?”

“Possibly, but an Emissary in the Diamond Quarter would attract attention, don’t you think? It’s a bit hard to blend in - what with them being seven feet tall, shooting lightning and dressed in the latest darkspawn fashion.”

“This is bullshit,” Evelyn snarled, her hand on her hip. “It can’t have been Solona, she would have no reason to kill you or me!”

Alistair looked relieved at her words. “Yes, I agree,” he said. “I was worried you thought- anyway, they weren’t trying to kill me. They were trying to capture me, actually. This fellow crawled into my bed. I was flattered, but he’s not my type.”

“Can’t you be serious,” Cullen sighed wearily.

“You’re being serious enough for the both of us, Cull,” Alistair replied. “Anyway, they were trying to drag me away, probably down into the hole. I wasn’t to keen for a vacation so I stabbed them.”

“Why would they take you?” Evelyn growled in frustration. “What do you have that they want?”

“I really couldn’t say,” Alistair replied.

“That’s not the same as you not knowing, is it?” Evelyn glared at the king, challenge in her blue eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Alistair met her glare. “But I don’t know anything for certain. Why muddy the waters with more maybes?”

Evelyn shook her head. “Fade rifts were easier,” she muttered.

Cullen sighed, watching the dwarf silently writhe in pain. “If you have no need of him...” he said, holding his sword.

“I guess it would be cruel for a man to die that slow,” Alistair said. “Even if he is blighted and tried to kidnap me.”

Evelyn said nothing.

Cullen raised his sword and put the dwarf down mercifully with a slash across the throat.

****  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for puns and smut and stabbing things! Let me know how you liked or disliked this chapter! Comments really do wonders to keep authors going!


	10. Road to Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn, Cullen and Alistair finally enter the Deep Roads to face down the Darkspawn horde, even as a song rises in the darkness to greet them.

They rode down the Deep Roads. The horses would be fine at least up to a point. It was a small blessing that Evelyn was grateful for. Walking would have been slow going. She rode beside Alistair and was impressed with the way he stepped into the role of Warden. He even wore the armour of the Gray. Behind them, Cullen brought up the column of Inquisition forces and Wardens. These were not the dark tunnels of the deep, but well-lit and well-paved roads with towering ceilings that stretched on into the dark. Sometimes roads branched out into the darkness, vanishing into dark empty tunnels or impregnable walls of collapsed stone. The air felt alive here, breathable. It really felt like a true road. Evelyn was impressed with the workmanship, as she always was when she entered subterranean dwarven constructs.

 

Ahead, Warden Scouts ranged out, on the lookout for darkspawn. “Why is Cullen’s face like that?” Alistair asked conversationally, glancing over his shoulder at the Commander, his voice a murmur as he leaned towards her in his saddle.

 

“Two reasons,” Evelyn whispered back. “One, because people saw him, and two, because people saw me.”

 

“I get that he’d be embarrassed that people saw him but what about you-” Alistair stopped.

 

“I wasn’t wearing much either,” she grinned.

 

“Oh,” he leaned back, blushing ever so slightly. “That actually didn’t occur to me. I guess you weren’t, at that. Interesting, I had no idea he was the sort who’d be jeal-”

 

“That’s a word we try to avoid, my King,” Evelyn interrupted.  

 

“I can hear you,” Cullen pointed out, his voice tight. “And I’m not. Not in the least.”

 

“So! How do you find the Deep Roads?” Alistair changed the subject with a nervous grin.

 

“Fascinating,” Evelyn laughed. “I just hope we don’t run out of food.”

 

“You can generally find things to eat, sort of. Nugs, if you’re lucky. Rats, if you’re less lucky.”

 

“Rats?” Evelyn exclaimed in disgust.

 

“If it’s between rats or horse jerky, pick rat. It’s not that bad.”

 

Evelyn felt sick, having the vague suspicion that Alistair was having her on.

 

“You’ve never had rat?” Alistair asked, his eyes wide.

 

“Why would I ever-”

 

“Rat on a stick is really good!”

 

She glared at him, her face slightly green.

 

“You see, to cook it, you sort of peel the skin off first, right?” Alistair said eagerly. “Then you pull out it’s guts because those taste awful. Then you sort of shove a stick up its-”

 

“This conversation is over,” Evelyn said flatly and nudged her horse ahead.

 

“What? But I haven’t told you the spices you need!” he called after her.

 

“Over, your Majesty!” She did not look over her shoulder as she heard him laughing behind her.

 

Their journey for the first day was uneventful. They travelled into the deep and eventually came to a place to camp. Their camp was long, following the path of the Deep Road. On both ends of their camp, Inquisition Soldiers and Warden guards were posted next to barricades that blocked off the camp entrances.

 

“It’s serviceable,” Cullen said as they stood around a table by their campfire that burned with no wood. Evelyn had lit several for the troops, though it wasn’t truly cold she knew the fires brought comfort. “The barricades will have to do,” Cullen went on. “It’s not like we can get wood for palisades.”

 

“The walls are well built and darkspawn generally dig their way about like mutated moles of evil,” Alistair pointed out. He swore slightly as he tried to hold down the corners of the map that he had rolled up in a parchment tube. “Any chance of ambush will come from either end.”

 

“Not the roof?” Evelyn asked as she looked down at the map. The two men looked up. “If I were going to set up an ambush, I’d do it from above.”

 

“Or climb up through a well?” Cullen murmured. “It looks like dwarven construction up there, though.”

 

“What’s this about a well?” Alistair asked. “Eve, get that corner for me, if you please.”

 

“I stormed Griffon Wing keep through the well,” she said, setting her hand down on a map corner. To her surprise, Cullen let the name pass. Well, Eve was a logical shortening of her name. It wasn’t as if it were a pet name or something. Like Evie, or Cully.

 

“Interesting career you’ve had,” Alistair chuckled. He set his finger on the map. “We’re here,” he said. “We’re making good time. With horses, we should reach the end of the Deep Roads by the day after tomorrow.”

 

“Is that as far as they reach?” Evelyn asked, slightly disappointed.

 

“Most of it is lost to darkspawn,” Alistair said. “That’s where it gets interesting, however. We turn off the roads here, you see, and enter the tunnels. Dark caves, only deep mushroom and rats to eat.”

 

“Will you stop joking about the rats?” Evelyn asked testily.

 

“Joking, she says,” Alistair muttered with a grin.

 

“We have enough food for a month,” Cullen said, smiling at her as he leaned over the map. “You’re not eating rat, Evie.” He paused. “Not that you know of anyway.”

 

“Maker’s breath, you both,” Evelyn glared at Alistair and Cullen. “Something about the living in the Chantry must turn people slightly crazy, apparently. Have you anything important to report or are you going to gang up on me all night?”

 

“Rylen has been briefed on all contingency plans necessary,” Cullen said, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword.

 

“What do these contingencies provide for?” Evelyn asked.

 

“Should anything happen to us, of course,” Cullen said. “He will take command of the Inquisition and the Gray, with Warden-Lieutenant Markus.”

 

“I’ve not met the man.”

 

“Lady,” Alistair said. “She’s got a squint. Very good archer, though. Which is weird when you think about it but she shut me up when she skewered a cockroach at fifty feet.”

 

“Impressive,” Evelyn blinked. “At least that’s taken care of. I take it they’re to head back should we fall?”

 

“That’s one of the plans, yes,” Cullen said. “You needn’t worry about the details of this, Inquisitor, I’ll brief thoroughly you on the journey tomorrow,” He turned to Alistair. “Have there truly been no signs of darkspawn?”

 

“No, I’d be extremely surprised if they ventured this close to Orzammar when there isn’t a Blight,” Alistair said. “Also, we’ve sent a couple of Wardens ahead.”

 

“To?” Evelyn asked.

 

“Bownammar,” Alistair said. “Our path will take us there. If the Legion of the Dead are camped there still, we’ll need to know if they’re... friendly. We should be there in five days if we follow the Road the way Sol and I came last time.”

 

“Maker,” Evelyn sighed, her hand on her hip. “I thought the Deep Roads at the Storm Coast were bad enough.”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Alistair said. “Also, you should know that in caves, sound travels really far.” He glanced at Evelyn and Cullen. “Just saying.”

 

“Don’t worry, Cullen and I don’t dance the horizontal Remigold when on missions,” Evelyn said. Cullen snorted despite himself as Alistair burst out laughing.

 

Cullen shook his head in resignation. “I married a comedian,” he sighed. “And not a very good one at that.”

 

“The horizontal Remigold. I’m going to use that from now on,” he said as Evelyn and he shared matching grins.  

 

++++

 

“I spy…” Alistair began.

 

“No,” Cullen grated as they rode down the Deep Roads with Alistair and Evelyn on either side of him.

 

“Something that begins with ‘G’.”

 

Cullen sighed. “Is it a Gray Warden?” he asked. “Is it perhaps… you?”

 

“Very good! Why does everyone get that on the first go?”

 

Cullen sighed again.

 

“I spy…” Alistair said again.

 

“Maker’s breath!”

 

“Something that begins with ‘H’,” Evelyn interrupted.

 

“Really, Evelyn? Is it husband? Is it in fact, me?”

 

“Close,” Evelyn grinned. “You forgot hottie-honey-Cully-buns-husband.”

 

Cullen gave a very heartfelt groan even as his snort turned into a laugh, his ears heating up from the blush. “Andraste preserve me,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as Evelyn and Alistair high-fived behind him. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to make me laugh or have an aneurysm.”

 

There was a change in the air then. Instead of the breathable and relatively fresh air of the Road, there was the smell of corruption and damp dankness. Alistair spurred his horse forward towards a bend in the Road. Unlike the lit path behind them, the road around the bend seemed to be dimmer. “It’s here,” Alistair called to them.

 

“How he finds his way in this place amazes me,” Cullen muttered as he and Evelyn rode forward to join Alistair.

 

“Does it, hottie-honey-Cully-buns?” Evelyn grinned at him.

 

Cullen chuckled again. “I’ll make you pay for that later,” he murmured to her.

 

“Oh, I hope so,” Evelyn raised an eyebrow invitingly.

 

Cullen shook his head, feeling strangely affectionate for this woman who could find the most painful things to say to utter embarrass and amuse him at the same time. He saw the gaping tunnel ahead then, yawning dark in the side of the Deep Roads wall. Inquisition soldiers and Wardens were by the entrance. Alistair was already dismounted and entering the tunnel.

 

“We should-” Cullen began.

 

“Some darkspawn,” Alistair grinned at him. “Coming up. By ‘some’, I mean a bunch - less than a hundred, they don’t sound so loud.”

 

Cullen glanced at Alistair. The other Wardens standing near him were looking at Alistair with some surprise and admiration in their eyes. “How can you tell?” Evelyn as curiously.

 

“The sound of their minds. You get used to picking out the size of their forces by their talking,” Alistair explained.

 

“Lucky for us we got the most senior Gray Warden in Ferelden, then.”

 

“I’m not that senior,” Alistair whined.

 

“How much time do we have?” he asked Alistair tersely.

 

“Enough time to form up the men,” Alistair replied. “This will be good for morale.”

 

Cullen nodded and dismounted. He began to form up the column, his voice barking orders. Alistair joined him. Cullen kept an eye on Evelyn lest she decide to run off into the tunnel on her own. She seemed to be standing there, looking into the dark, her head cocked slightly as if listening.

 

Cullen turned his attention to the column as their horses were led away. A platoon of soldiers would stay at the entrance to maintain a forward camp while the Rylen and the rest would enter the Deep Roads. It was all planned, yet why did Cullen feel a sense of trepidation as he looked at Evelyn standing before the mouth of the cave, her petite frame made more diminutive by the yawning darkness beyond. It might be because of the Darkspawn coming up, but there was something more to it. He knew enough to trust his instincts. Still, clear and present danger first. He drew his blade.

 

“Shall I address the men, Commander?” Alistair asked as the column awaited them.

 

“Be my guest,” Cullen said, taking his eyes off Evelyn. “Inquisition, Wardens, attention!” His voice echoed in the cave, seeming to snap Evelyn from her reverie.

 

“Soldiers,” Alistair’s voice boomed in the hushed silence, carrying steel and the weight of the Crown with it. “You are entering the unchartered Deep. You will face shit down there you only ever dreamed of in your worst nightmare. This is normal. You would not be here if you didn’t have the steel in you to face the darkness, to stare it down and to win. You are the mighty arm of the Inquisition, you are the Wardens of legend, shield against the Blight. You walk in the footsteps of the Inquisitor herself and you stand with Veterans of the Fifth Blight. The Inquisition and the Wardens will fight together - we’ll drive whatever darkspawn that dares rear its blighted head back into the pit from whence they came!”

 

The cheer that rang out reverberated in the cave. Cullen heard the familiar sound of Evelyn’s sword flaring to life, he watched her raise her blade as Alistair drew his. Her sword blazed in the dark, lighting up the mouth of the cave as she held it aloft. Cullen remembered the day she became Inquisitor, the day she held her blade high. There were sounds coming from the tunnels now - grunts and growls and the gnashing of teeth. “For our lives!” she shouted. “For Fereldan! For the Wardens!” She turned and stared the darkness down, her glowing sword illuminating the faces of the darkspawn horde charging them. “For the Inquisition!” The battle cry roared in the cave, sounding like the voices of thousands with the echoes - like Adamant, the same passion flaring in the hearts of a thousands beating as one. The charge of the horde seemed to falter in the face of their battle cry.

 

Cullen felt the fire in his blood, the beating of his heart - stupid, childish feelings, but he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. “Archers!” he commanded. Arrows arced overhead, raining down and cutting away swathes of darkspawn in their passing. Still the horde came charging. Cullen pointed with his sword. “Charge!” His command was like unleashing a floodgate. The combined forces of the Inquisition and the Wardens charged the darkspawn, their footsteps making the cave shake with their might. Evelyn ran at the head of the column, a grin on her face, her sword like a comet in the dark. She leapt fearlessly and skewered a genlock in the face, blood spray glowing with the magic in her sword.

 

No wonder men followed, Cullen thought as he blocked a genlock’s swing with his shield. He buried his blade in the genlock’s neck and kicked the beast off his sword. No wonder I follow her, his mind added.

 

He felt her barrier rise around him in a flash of green light as the melee erupted around them. Her back was pressed against his then, the force of her mind knocking away a darkspawn’s axe swing. She threw the beast into the darkness with her mind. “All right, Cully?” she grinned at him over her shoulder.

 

“With you? Always,” he couldn’t help but grin back. No wonder I love her.

 

“Would you two stop flirting and kill things, please!” Alistair shouted as he cut down a hurlock near them, two swords in his hands flashing in the light of Evelyn’s sword.

 

“As my king wishes!” Evelyn replied and raised her hand and fired a blast of lightning at the darkspawn as Cullen joined the fray by Alistair’s side. The darkspawn fought with no thought, no tactics. It was almost too easy. It’s as if the horde were sent to die. That was a troubling thought.

 

When the last of the darkspawn fell, the troops cheered. Alistair swiped his sword, the blood from the fuller spattering onto the blood-soaked ground. Cullen wiped his sword with the tatters of a darkspawn robe. “Now, we want to get out of here and burn the bodies,” Alistair said. “Best not to hang about with lots of dead darkspawn - because of the taint and all.”

 

“Alistair and I will go ahead,” Evelyn said as she came up to them. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and neck with sweat. She slipped the hilt of her sword in her belt. “I want to see where these darkspawn came from and seal the way if I can. Cullen, can you settle the forward camp and bring up the rear with the column.”

 

Cullen nodded, his heart still drumming from the thrill of the battle - which was foolish but so enjoyable, not that he’d ever admit it. “Understood, Inquisitor,” he said formally and paused, slight concern in his eyes. “Don’t go too far.”

 

“We won’t,” Evelyn said, grinning at him. She grabbed the side of his breastplate, pulling him down for a kiss. Drunk on the heady fire of battle, Cullen responded, cradling the back of her neck and kissing her as if no one was there. He could taste the salt of her sweat on her lips. He felt her seem to melt in his arms, the excited tension fading from her body.

 

When he pulled away, she was the one blushing, pleasant surprise glimmering in her blue eyes. “We’ll join you soon, Inquisitor,” he smirked slightly.

 

“Mmhm,” she managed and walked off down the tunnel. Alistair grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up. Cullen chuckled. Was his and Evelyn’s little game of influence was that apparent or was Alistair that observant after all? He turned and saw the Inquisition Soldiers looking at him, some with smirks, some extremely thoughtful looks. He recognized a few as ones from the Palace Hallway attack. Then he started to blush, his ears suddenly burning. “What are you looking at?” he barked. “Get these corpses piled up and burned now - and form up the line! Rylen!”

 

Rylen came jogging up, his uniform covered with blood. He saluted Cullen. “Are you alright?” Cullen asked him, eyeing the blood.

 

“Yes, it’s their blood. It stinks. Permission to change into my other armour before I catch something off this, ser.”

 

“Granted,” Cullen said, feeling relieved. “You have twenty minutes to get the men formed up, Captain.”

 

“Yes, ser, thank you, ser. Would hate having to fight naked, ser. I hear it’s not pleasant - unless you’re watching, apparently,” Rylen saluted.

 

Cullen glared at him, his face like thunder and his steely eyes promising pain even as the blush crept across his face. “Ten minutes,” he growled. “Don’t make me have to talk about this at appraisal. Dismissed, Captain.”

 

“Understood, ser!” Rylen saluted again, grinning anyway as he left Cullen standing there scowling despite the blush lighting up his face like a beacon.

 

++++

 

“Score one for Cullen, then?” Alistair asked as he and Evelyn walked down the empty tunnel. his voice a quiet murmur. It was getting darker away from the light of the Deep Roads. His sword was still drawn, just in case.

 

“He catches me off guard sometimes so, yes, score one for Cullen,” she said, blinking in the darkness. She reached into her pouch and drew out a small leather bag. She paused to rub it vigorously with her hands, then emptied the contents down an empty glass lyrium vial. It glowed blue, bright enough to make out shadows and illuminate the path

 

She hung the vial at her belt. “Clever,” Alistair said.

 

“My brother’s invention,” she told him proudly, her voice echoing. She bit her lip. “The sound really carries,” she murmured in a softer tone.

 

“Yes,” Alistair replied. He paused as the tunnel rounded a bend. It was wide enough for ten people to walk abreast. Alistair saw the remains of dwarven paving in the dim light. This was once a Deep Road, but now sadly in disrepair. He stopped her then, hearing a whisper in his ears. “Nearby,” he hissed. “Their entrance must be around here.”

 

“I can smell it, even if I can’t see it,” she said. They paused and crouched behind some fallen rocks, the bend in the tunnel revealing another tunnel entrance in a collapsed wall. “That’s it?”

 

“That’s it,” Alistair said. He reached up to grab her shoulder as she stood up as he expected she would. He pulled her back down. “Let me check it first? I have to at least pretend to be useful, after all.”

 

Evelyn chuckled slightly. “As your Majesty wishes,” she grinned.

 

“My majesty does,” he quipped and crouch-walked around the rocks, listening with his mind. He could hear the whispers from within, the darkspawn speaking. It sounded far off, but nevertheless present. And there it was also, the hint of the song, ringing in the back of his head. He pushed the thought from his mind and gestured for Evelyn to come over.

 

She walked over, her brow furrowed in thought. “Someone’s singing,” she said quietly.

 

“That’s just the Calling-” Alistair began. “Wait, what? What are you hearing?” He stood up next to her. She was looking down the tunnel.

 

“Someone’s singing,” she said, her voice echoing slightly. Then she blinked, tilting her head to the sound. “It’s gone.”

 

“What singing?” Alistair asked.

 

“Singing with your voice sort of singing,” she said. “A song.”

 

Alistair stared at her. “That’s not the song I’m hearing,” he murmured. “We’ll talk about that later. Can you seal this?”

 

“I can,” she put her hand on her hip, looking at the rocks on the ground in a business-like manner. “Step back, your Majesty.”

 

Alistair did so. She raised her hand, green lights flaring in the dark and illuminating the walls. Green flame danced over the rocks strewn about and they floated in the air, following the movement of her hand. They thundered when they came together, clumping around the tunnel. With a final burst of green, the rocks fused with an earth-shaking shudder. Evelyn lowered her hand. “No more using this entrance,” she said proudly.

 

“Good,” Alistair said, the sound of the Calling dimmed somewhat. He wondered what being down here in the Deep Roads would do to his Calling. He hadn’t been around so many darkspawn since the blight. Still, anything to find Sol. This was his one chance to find his wife and sort out this mess with Orzammar. When he found her, he was going to- going to hug her for hours, probably, but then he’d scold her for ever leaving to come here. He hoped she would have answers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happening as they run down the darkness to do the thing! Comment me. I find myself liking Alistair's self-deprecating sense of humour and how he and Evelyn are beginning to become partners in crime for truly horrible jokes.


	11. The Siege of Bownammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three arrive at Bownammar to find the Legion under siege.

The travel through the Ortan Thaig was blessedly uneventful. Aside from a few giant spiders and a nest, they faced surprisingly little resistance. There were signs of Darkspawn - campfires, filth, discarded broken weapons, but none came to face them as they walked through the blue deep-mushroom lit depths of the Ortan Thaig. This was something Cullen felt very disconcerting. He grew more sullen by the day and frequently found Evelyn’s exploring to be both foolhardy and irresponsible.

 

As they broke camp on the fifth day, he realized she wasn’t around camp as usual. Neither was Alistair. Breathe, he said to himself as he oversaw the breaking of camp with Rylen. Breathe. You sent scouts after them to get them back. She wasn’t completely stupid, despite how she behaved. She must have had a good reason. He adjusted his glove as the tents were struck and the glyph fires quenched. There was the sound of skittering spiders in the distance. A Warden drew her bow and fired into the dark. The skittering ended in a squelching sound. Cullen saw the squinting Warden grinning. Markus was indeed a fantastic shot.

 

“We found them, ser,” Rylen said to him then. Cullen looked up at Evelyn and Alistair, both donned in armour covered in filth.

 

“Before you start,” Evelyn raised her hand. “We were scouting ahead.”

 

Cullen felt the heat coming to his cheeks as he leaned his hands on the pommel of his sword, his expression tightly controlled, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he carefully refrained from snarling. “I am sure the Inquisitor had good reason not to tell the Commander of her Guard that she was leaving camp with the King of Ferelden. It’s not like we have other scouts. Why are you covered in filth?”

 

“There were darkspawn and we had to hide - the hole seemed handy until we realized what was inside,” Alistair said. He knelt down, pulling out a map from a the scroll tube at his belt. Alistair looked up at Cullen. “Before you both settle your domestic dispute very loudly, can we focus for a second?”

 

“We found the entrance to Bownammer,” Evelyn said. “And our scouts.”

 

“What’s left of them,” Alistair said, holding down the edges of his map.

 

Cullen frowned. “Report then,” he said.

 

Alistair gave him a slightly amused look. “We found their bodies here,” he said. “About an hour up the road, right on the gates of Bownammar. We can see dwarves there - Legion of the Dead. we couldn’t get close enough to the entrance because there were darkspawn camped at the bridge. It looks like a siege in progress.”

 

“How are they deployed?” Cullen asked. “What I mean is-”

 

“I know what that means,” Alistair said, grabbing a piece of charcoal from the recently quenched fire and wincing slightly from the residual heat. He started to sketch on his map. “They’re mining, apparently. We can see signs of digging. The Legion on the walls must have run out of rocks to throw down. They’ve got a siege wall here at the entrance, on the bridge and from the tunnel we were in. We have about two hundred of them from what Evelyn counted. Apparently my eyes aren’t what they used to be - which is true.”

 

“Do you have a plan, Commander?” Evelyn asked.

 

“We can flank them through the tunnel you mention - how many men abreast?” Cullen asked tersely.

 

“Five,” Alistair replied.

 

“That’s bad,” Cullen said. “We’re coming in from a choke point. Are there any other access points?”

 

“No, sadly. Were the tunnel bigger, this would be an excellent place to flank the darkspawn and grind them against the walls. We come up slightly behind them and to the side. The only downside is the size of the tunnel.”

 

“I can make it bigger,” Evelyn said. “I have that Gauntlet.”

 

Cullen’s eyes glittered with disapproval. He looked down at the map. “Is that a shield wall?” he asked, pointing at a sketch on the map.

 

“It is,” Alistair replied. “They do know about the tunnel. They’ve fortified against that entrance.”

 

Cullen’s jaw tightened. He could see no way around this. They either came out through a choke point and get killed, or they sat tight here hoping the darkspawn would go away. The other alternative was using Evelyn’s gauntlet… it was a huge risk, but there was no other way forward.

 

“What can you do with the Gauntlet?” Cullen asked her.

 

“I can blow the tunnel wide open like a sailor’s whore,” Evelyn said seriously.

 

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair looked at her, shocked by her turn of phrase.

 

“The rocks would be blown right onto the darkspawn’s faces, which is always a good thing,” Evelyn winked at Alistair.

 

“Andraste’s blood!” Alistair laughed. “I’m going to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about, lest you make my ears blush.”

 

“Chances of collapse?” Cullen asked seriously, not looking up from their exchange.

 

“Nil,” Evelyn replied, holding the stump of her arm. “The rocks are mostly basalt. I can get my mana in the fissures and blow it to bits. The rest, I can make sound with magic, but I will need cover while I’m doing that. Still, the soldiers can charge in while I’m sealing the rocks. Once the tunnel is sound, I can join the battle.”

 

“And the noise will alert the Legion inside,” Alistair added.

 

“We’re putting a lot of faith in the gauntlet,” Cullen said to him. “If you don’t have enough mana-”

 

“No, you’re putting a lot of faith in me,” Evelyn cut in. “And I do have enough mana. Trust me, I will hold it up myself if need be.”

 

Cullen bit back his words. He had to rely on her. There was no choice. “Understood. With any luck, if any of the Legion are alive, they should be able to launch a sortie from within. If they do, the darkspawn will have no chance.” Cullen pointed at the bridge. “We will need to take that bridge as well. If darkspawn reinforcements cross the bridge. What way are these facing?” Cullen pointed to the walls fortifications drawn by Alistair.

 

“This first line faces the walls. The second faces the tunnel. The third faces the bridge.”

 

In his mind, Cullen saw the plan unfolding. They summoned Rylen and Markus and Cullen laid out the plan. “King Alistair, the Inquisitor and I will enter the tunnel first. The Inquisitor will blow open the tunnel. That will be your signal, Markus. Once you hear the explosion, charge. The Inquisitor will hold the tunnel up while we cover her. The Wardens will lead the charge. Grind them up against the ramparts. The Inquisition will bring up the rear. Rylen, when you make your charge, sound your horn, let the Legion hear you. I want that bridgehead cleared of all darkspawn. Once the darkspawn are neutralized on the bridge, I want you to split in two. One force stays to hold the bridgehead, the other to harry the flanks of the horde.” Cullen looked at Markus and Rylen. “Any questions?”

 

“No, ser!” Rylen said. Markus grinned at him.

 

“Tell Rylen to toot his horn when he’s coming in,” she said, her accent heavily Fereldan.

 

“Toot?” Rylen sounded hurt.

 

“Listen,” Cullen said. “If the Legion emerges and they are tainted, kill them - as many as you can. If the battle turns, Rylen will sound his horn three times. I want everyone to withdraw to the bridge. It’s defensible at the very least.”

 

They nodded.

 

“And what will Alistair and I do?” Evelyn asked.

 

“Break every darkspawn in half,” Cullen said plainly. “Rylen and Markus, dismissed. Get the men formed up.”

 

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at Cullen. “There’s a caveat to that, isn’t there?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” Cullen said. “I want that gauntlet contained when the tunnel is stable.”

 

“You want me to take it off?” Evelyn asked, incredulously. “In the middle of battle?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s not like slotting a sword in its sheathe, Cullen!” Evelyn said. “You know it hurts like blazes and I bleed.”

 

“I’ll be with you.”

 

She glared at him, her eyes glinting. “That sort of blackmail is unworthy of you, Commander,” she grated.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you using it any longer than you have to, even if you cast with your own mana. Inevitably, you will draw on the gauntlet’s power.”

 

Evelyn put her hand on her arm. “I will disregard that order, Commander,” she said coldly, her eyes narrowed. “I will remove the gauntlet at my own discretion. Should you wish to stand by me, I will not send you away. You can take it, as can I.”

 

Their eyes locked, the air sparking between them for a moment as they both seemed to bristle for a possible confrontation. Cullen sighed heavily. “As the Inquisitor wishes,” he grated.

 

“Good,” Alistair said, cutting the tension. “Shall we get moving then? We’re supposed to be fighting the darkspawn, not each other.”

 

Cullen sighed inwardly. “Don’t take chances,” he said to Evelyn. “We have responsibilities.”

 

“You don’t have to remind me about Sam, Cullen. I am well aware.”

 

++++

 

They crept through the tunnel, Cullen and Alistair taking pains to keep their armour clinking to a minimum. Their blades were drawn, Cullen’s shield covered with a tattered cloth to keep the light from reflecting off it. Alistair had foregone the shield for two swords once more. Cullen watched Evelyn, the gauntlet slung across her back in its lead pouch. He had to trust her with that thing. She wouldn’t do anything foolish.

 

Alistair ranged slightly ahead. The man could move stealthily, Cullen gave him that. He was having trouble with the plate armour. Alistair paused at a bend in the tunnel then and gestured for them to stop. Evelyn unslung the bag and slowly withdrew the lyrium arm. She slung the bag across her chest and lifted the arm in place. Cullen could hear the song of the lyrium, practically feel the familiar hum of it resonate through him. She glanced at him and moved away slightly. In the dimness, her body in shadows as she kept the arm from his view, he heard the sickening sound of metal entering flesh. Evelyn gasped. In the blue glow of the lyrium, he could see her biting her lip. Then she flexed her arm, sending wavering shadows across the walls. There were grunts from around the bend.

 

“They see the lyrium,” Alistair whispered. Cullen stepped in front of Evelyn as she raised her hands to the rocks above, her fingers flexing, twisting, shaping the veil. Blue and green lines began to trace the crevices of the basalt. Alistair joined Cullen’s side. “They’re coming.”

 

Cullen saw the darkspawn then, silhouettes in the dark as they ran down the tunnel, brandishing weapons. He blocked a slash from a hurlock with his shield, realizing that the beast was faster than genlocks. He bashed the hurlock back into a genlock and sliced it open from groin to chest. Alistair skewered the genlock with one sword and sliced the head off another. There were calls then from the end of the tunnel as behind them the blue glow brightened.

 

“Almost,” Evelyn said, her voice seeming to echo with a metallic ring to it as her hands wove intricate patterns in the air, pulling at the threads of the veil, her blue eyes glinting with the glow of lyrium. “Keep them off me.”

 

There were more footsteps now, running towards them from the end of the hallway. Cullen saw a dozen darkspawn. Cullen charged with Alistair at his side, taking the fight to the darkspawn. Cullen sidestepped a wild swipe from a hurlock’s battle aze, the beast’s golden armour distracting his eyes. A kick caught him in the stomach. Cullen staggered and blocked a blow with his shield. He rounded and his blade caught the hurlock in the neck between helmet and gorget. The blood that sprayed him was hot and black, almost burning to the touch.

 

Alistair had a sword stuck in the torso of a genlock. He grabbed the hurlock’s axe as the beast fell from Cullen’s blow and brought it down on the collarbone of another genlock. Cullen was already on the next beast, slicing at tendons in the elbows of the hurlock. The creature crashed its shield into his. Cullen growled and pushed back, overpowering the darkspawn. As the beast staggered, Cullen stabbed it in its torso. “Get your sword out of that thing!” Cullen snapped at Alistair.

 

“Way ahead of you,” Alistair said, kicking the genlock off his sword.

 

Cullen fought on, pushing the darkspawn back. He took the heavy blows as Alistair dodged in and out striking with speed. It  was a common Templar technique for two styles to augment each other.

 

There was a chittering in the dark then.

 

“Shriek!” Alistair turned to Evelyn, standing with her eyes to the rocks above.

 

There was a blast from her body then that sent Cullen, Alistair and all the darkspawn reeling. A shadow appeared in the dark., its twin blades hitting the rock hard as it fell, screaming like the herald of death. Evelyn looked at them, her blue eyes unmistakeably glowing now.

 

“Duck,” she said.

 

Cullen and Alistair threw themselves to the ground.

 

And then the world exploded.

 

The tunnel blasted outwards, taking the darkspawn with the rocks. The ground shook and the tearing of stone resonated in Cullen’s heart. He shut his eyes in the blinding glow of lyrium as the tremors made his teeth clatter. He heard the falling of rocks, raining like hail from the blast. Cullen stood up, seeing Evelyn with her fingers flexed to the ceiling, rocks held in place by green fire. The tunnel was blasted open, light from beyond streaming in through the gaping mouth of the tunnel. She grimaced. “Go!” she snarled even as the Wardens came thundering up the tunnel behind her. Alistair looked at Cullen. “Go!” Evelyn commanded, her voice thundering to their very core.

 

Cullen nodded at Alistair as the Wardens came charging up the tunnel. Alistair ran, falling ahead of the column and led the charge.

 

Evelyn seemed to bow beneath the weight of the rocks above as the Wardens streamed around them, bumping into Cullen once or twice. Cullen realized no one was bumping into Evelyn, something like a field surrounded her. She was sweating, her face pulled into a snarl. Cullen heard Rylen coming up behind the column of Wardens.

 

“Lead them!” Evelyn shouted at him.

 

He grit his teeth in frustration.

 

“You die here, Cullen and I’ll kill you myself!” she shouted at him as Rylen rounded the bend with the Inquisition soldiers. She smiled despite the strain then, the sound of battle resonating freom the gaping tunnel entrance. “For Sam,” she whispered to him. “That’s our battle cry.”

 

Cullen nodded and set his jaw, his heart beating in his ears as he raised his sword. “For Sam,” he said to her with Rylen fast approaching.

 

She grinned at him as he turned and led the charge. Rylen ran beside him. Cullen emerged from the tunnel mouth to a wide flat crescent along the side of a deep trench. A bridge spanned the trench, held by darkspawn. The Wardens were engaged with the darkspawn, crushing them against their own barricades. Cullen charged for the bridgehead. He cut darkspawn out his way as they charged him. Arrows deflected off his shield as the thrum of battle filled his being. He sliced open a darkspawn and leapt over their bridgehead barricade. All around him was the crashing of steel against steel, darkspawn grunts and roars, the shouts of soldiers fighting, dying. He kicked a hurlock off the side of the bridge and saw it vanish into the trench below, falling as if for infinity. He turned to face another darkspawn and saw a blinding green flash from the tunnel as the earth shook again.

 

Cullen grinned, seeing Evelyn emerge with her arm flaring blue. She took in the battle as she stood at the tunnel. Then she drew her sword. Cullen turned to the battle before him as they struck down the darkspawn at the bridgehead.

 

It was the work of a moment to take the bridgehead with the might of the Inquisition’s Forces. Then, Cullen heard the sound of lightning behind him. Evelyn was in the fray. Though he hated to admit it, she was a weapon in and of herself.

 

Rylen took off with his group of soldiers to join the Wardens. Cullen looked across the bridge. There was another swathe of flat land before what looked like doors at the other end of the bridge. The doors had two huge tunnels to their sides, where the darkspawn had burrowed through.

 

“Legion!” he heard a booming voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Evelyn before the gates of Bownammar, her voice echoing over the battle as she practically glowed with magic. She had managed to get beyond the darkspawn to the doors themselves. “Make good your promise of death! Join us! Fight with the Wardens and the Inquisition! Die with us!”

 

There rose a cry from within. Dwarves on the ramparts cheered and vanished from sight. As Evelyn turned to the darkspawn, the great doors of Bownammar opened thunderously. The Legion poured out at her back as she led the sortie of dwarves, their axes and hammers flashing in the light of Bownammar, their battle cry terrifying as they charged.

 

Cullen was so proud of her he felt he might burst. The darkspawn were being crushed against their own barricades, taken from all sides. “Commander!” he heard. He turned as the soldier beside him gestured urgently.

 

A monstrosity was crawling out of one of the holes on the other side of the bridge. The ogre reared itself up, five times as tall as a man. It roared its challenge, banging its chest in fury. Cullen swore as it started to charge across the bridge. “Archers!” he commanded. “Open fire!”

 

The arrows arced over head, the ogre swiping them away, spitting rage and roaring, the footsteps of its charge seeming to shake the bridge itself. Cullen felt a cold blast of air rush by him. His heart stopped as he saw Evelyn come to a halt before the ogre. It took a swipe at her. She fade-stepped through its grip and appeared behind it as it continued its inexorable charge. Cullen faced it, his mind thinking of nothing but slaughtering the beast before him. The first strike destroyed the  bridge-side barricade. Cullen watched the soldiers scatter. He ducked between the ogre’s legs and slice the tendons there. Then Alistair was beside him, his swords opening a huge gash in the ogre’s side. The beast’s arms froze then, but it roared in mad fury as it pushed against the ice. Cullen ducked a swipe at him again and stabbed his sword into the ogre’s heel tendon. The ogre sank to one knee. Alistair was above then, running up its back and stabbing into the ogre’s neck. The Ogre screamed and tried to swipe Alistair off. Cullen came around, stabbing into the open in the ogre’s side that Alistair’s swords had earlier made. Then the ogre seemed to waver and lean over the edge of the bridge. A blast knocked Alistair off the ogre and back onto the safe ground beyond the bridgehead. There was a flash of ice that coated the bridge under the ogre’s feet. The ogre slid on the slippery ice and went over the side. A wild swipe caught Cullen’s side and sent him over the side of the bridge. He hung in the air a moment as the ogre fell past him.

 

Maker…

 

A hand closed around his.

 

There was a scream of pain. Evelyn held onto him by his shield arm, her right shoulder pulled awkwardly as she held on her face pale. He hung from her grip, the trench stomach-churningly deep below him. He tried not to look down.

 

Cullen knew a dislocated shoulder when he saw one. “Eve!”

 

“You get your ass up here!” Evelyn snarled, her arm quivering. Cullen sheathed his sword and tried to grab the edge of the bridge. Evelyn bit back her screams with every move he made. Then another hand grabbed his as he tried to find his grip. Alistair grinned down at him. “What the hell are you hanging around for?” Alistair asked and grunted as he and Evelyn pulled Cullen up.

 

Cullen was too relieved to let that joke hurt. He felt his heart winding down from a wild drumming to just beating fast. He could have kissed the ground. Evelyn whimpered, her shoulder twisted out of its socket. “You idiot,” she smiled at him as Alistair sank to sit on the cold ground.

 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Cullen said.

 

“Well, well,” they heard. They looked up to see a thick-set dwarf in green Legion armour, his face tattooed, his head bald, his beard smeared with blood. “And I see a familiar face as well.”

 

“Hello Kardol,” Alistair grinned at the man. Behind Kardol, the last of the darkspawn were being slaughtered.

 

Cullen had his hand on Evelyn’s arm. She was wincing. “Maker!” she grit her teeth as he gently supported her arm and flexed it. She hissed and straightened up.

 

“Better?” Cullen asked, his voice gentle.

 

“Better,” she winced, flexing her shoulder. “You need a diet.”

 

“Very funny,” Cullen smiled.

 

“Your timing is very good, lass,” Kardol said to Evelyn, setting down his huge axe on its pommel. “You gave us the chance we need to give those darkspawn what for. And made us a nice new door as well.”

 

Evelyn smiled up at Kardol, breathing hard.

 

“Now, you will dine with us and we will thank you like true heroes,” Kardol said. “The Legion of the Dead owes you a debt for helping us break that siege.”

 

++++

 

Fires were lit outside Bownammar. Inquisition Soldiers and Wardens were camped there, with the Legion of the Dead among them celebrating their victory. Cullen, Evelyn and Alistair were at their own fire with Kardol next to them. They dined on roasted nug, delicately spiced with mead and deep mushroom. Evelyn are ravenously with one hand, her arm safely back in its lead-lined bag and her wounds healed. Cullen watched her. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, she was blowing open a tunnel, fighting ogres and leading dwarves into battle. Now she was gobbling nug meat and quaffing mead with Kardol.

 

“You need to eat more, lass,” Kardol was laughing. “Need meat on your bones. You’re too short!”

 

“Excuse me?” Evelyn exclaimed good naturedly. “I’m taller than you are, ser!”

 

“I’m a dwarf - that’s no accomplishment, lass. Why isn’t your husband feeding you more?”

 

Cullen smiled as Alistair chuckled beside him. “It’s getting her to stop eating that’s the problem,” Cullen said mildly and dodged the swipe Evelyn aimed at his shoulder. She winced. “Still sore, Eve. I told you to let that arm rest.”

 

“You’re here looking for The Warden, aren’t you?” Kardol asked them.

 

“We are,” Alistair replied. “Is she here?”

 

“You think she’d hear all that fighting and not join in?” asked Kardol. “No, lad, she left here three days ago. She was heading to Cadash. Looking for someone, she said.”

 

“So we’re on the right track,” Alistair said, relieved. “Who was she looking for?”

 

“That she never mentioned,” Kardol refilled Alistair’s stein with mead from a cask he had beside him. “We didn’t ask. It was Warden business, she said. You hunting her down?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Kardol jerked his chin at the soldiers. “With all this lot?”

 

“Why?” Cullen asked.

 

“You plan on fighting darkspawn or feeding them?” asked Kardol. “You’d be so loud in the tunnels beyond, you’re liable to wake up an archdemon with this lot behind you.”

 

Cullen swore and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “That’s true,” he said.

 

Evelyn looked at Cullen in surprise. “Are you suggesting we leave them here?” she asked.

 

“It’s something to consider,” Cullen said. “A smaller party would move faster through those tunnels - and we do want to catch up with her, don’t we?”

 

Evelyn looked at Alistair. “Nothing to add?”

 

Alistair shook his head. “I told you, I have my own wishes, but this is your investigation. I shouldn’t let my motives try to influence you.”

 

Evelyn bit her thumbnail. Cullen reached out without a thought to pull her hand out of her mouth. She sighed. “What do you advise, Commander?”

 

“We send out search parties,” Cullen said.

 

“Excellent!” Evelyn beamed. “Except, of course, you, me and Alistair are the search party, am I right?”

 

“Yes, I thought it might end up that way,” Cullen sighed into his stein.

 

“Send the best!” Evelyn grinned at him.

 

“Of course,” Cullen sighed again.

 

“She’s only three days ahead - we’ll catch up with her if we move fast,” said Evelyn and gave Alistair a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Right Cullen?”

 

Cullen glanced at Alistair and had no heart to say no. The man was torn between duty and love - the least they could do was find Sol. Cullen smiled at Alistair. “Right,” he said.

 

Alistair looked at them with his heart in his misty eyes. “Thank you,” was all he could say. “Maker - something got into my eye - what in the void?” He wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zomg battle... I haven't done so much fight scene in one chapter ever. What thinkest thou?


End file.
